THE  ART   OF  AUTHORSHIP. 


THE    ART 
OF    AUTHORSHIP 


LITERARY  REMINISCENCES,   METHODS  OF   WORK, 
AND  ADVICE   TO    YOUNG  BEGINNERS 


PERSONALLY   CONTRIBUTED 
BY   LEADING   AUTHORS  OF   THE   DAY 


COMPILED   AND   EDITED   BY 

GEORGE    BAINTON 


NEW   YORK 

D.   APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 
1890 


Authorized  Edition. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Introduction. 

Good  Writing— Is  it  a  Gift  or  an  Art  ?        .         .        .  1 

Methods — Conscious  and  Unconscious  ....  55 

The  Intluence  of  Eeading  on  Literary  Stylo        .         .  119 

The  Strength -of  Simplicity 189 

A  Protest  Against  Obscurity 241 

Truthfulness  to  One's  Self 287 

Index  to  Contributing  Authors 353 


INTRODUCTION. 

SOME  time  since  I  was  requested  by  a  number 
of  young  men  to  address  them  upon  the  art 
of  composition  and  effective  public  speech. 
Thinking  how  best  to  make  such  a  topic 
interesting  as  well  as  instructive,  I  resolved 
to  illustrate  the  lecture  by  securing,  if  at  all 
possible,  personal  experiences  and  counsels 
from  a  few  of  the  leading  writers  and  speakers 
of  our  day.  Appealing  to  several  well-known 
authors  and  orators,  and  receiving  valued  and 
helpful  replies,  I  was  induced  to  extend  tha 
number  of  such  personal  testimonies,  with 
the  idea  of  giving  them  to  those  for  whom 
they  were  designed  in  a  more  permanent  form 
than  an  address  spoken  from  the  lecture  plat 
form.  This  volume  is  the  outcome,  so  far 
as  the  above-mentioned  communications  bear 
directly  upon  the  art  of  effective  written 
composition. 

I  must  ask  my  readers  to  remember    that 


Vlll  INTRODUCTION. 

the  experiences  and  methods  of  those  authors 
only  are  here  quoted  who  have  personally 
contributed,  at  my  request,  their  reminis 
cences  and  advice.  If,  therefore,  any  grati 
tude  should  be  felt  for  pleasure  or  profit 
experienced  by  a  perusal  of  these  pages,  it 
must  be  accorded  to  those  without  whose 
aid  and  generous  acquiescence  the  book  could 
never  have  been  written.  Several  names  of 
eminent  living  writers  will  not  be  found  here. 
In  most  instances  their  help  has  been  re 
quested,  but  has  either  been  withheld  or 
has  proved  insufficient  for  the  purpose  re 
quired.  Accounts  of  their  methods  might 
have  been  gleaned  from  other  sources,  but 
these  would  have  broken  the  harmony  of  the 
book,  which  contains  only  those  experiences 
and  counsels  written  for  the  purposes  above 
stated  by  the  authors  themselves. 

In  dealing  with  so  large  a  number  of  com 
munications  of  so  varied  a  character  as  those 
which  compose  the  bulk  of  this  volume,  it 
has  been  impossible  to  classify  them  with  any 
approach  to  consistency.  I  have  used  them, 
as  best  I  could  without  injury  to  their  original 
form,  to  illustrate  and  enforce  several  points 


INTEODUCTION.  IX 

of  interest,  which  every  student  of  expressive 
written  composition  may  with  advantage  con 
sider.  As  example  must  be  always  better  than 
precept,  statements  of  how  our  best  known 
authors  learned  to  write,  or  what  influences 
aided  them  the  most  in  preparing  for  and 
finding  their  life-work,  together  with  what 
ever  counsel  drawn  from  their  own  experience 
they  may  be  disposed  to  give  to  others,  cannot 
fail  to  be  both  instructive  and  deeply  inter 
esting.  "  He  that  walketh  with  wise  men 
shall  be  wise." 

Several  of  the  authors  quoted  here  have 
been  called  away  by  death  since  this  com 
pilation  was  first  attempted — some  even  while 
its  pages  were  passing  through  the  press, 
and  when  intimation  of  their  decease  was  no 
longer  possible.  Thankfully  do  I  honour  their 
memory,  rejoicing  in  the  thought  that  they 
lived,  and  in  living  gave  to  the  world  such 
enduring  riches.  For  while  their  books  re 
main  they  themselves  cannot  die,  nor  can 
then:  work  be  ended.  They  still  give  dignity 
and  sweetness  to  other  lives,  living  again 
"  in  minds  made  better  by  their  presence." 
It  may  be  that  among  their  many  claims 


X  INTRODUCTION. 

upon  the  grateful  remembrance  of  their 
countrymen,  not  the  least  is  to  be  looked 
for  in  the  fact  that  they  have  taught  us, 
both  by  precept  and  example,  that  careless 
speaking  or  slovenly  writing  is  an  insult  to 
the  public,  and  that  bad  English  is  a  crime. 

Coventry,  1890. 


GOOD  WHITING:  A  GIFT  OR  AN  ART? 


GOOD  WETTING:  A   GIFT  OR  AN  ART? 

W KITING  only  a  few  days  before  her  Mrs 
lamented  death,  the  gifted  author  of 
"  John  Halifax,  Gentleman,"  DINAH  MAKIA 
CEAIK,  a  lady  whose  enlightened  and  liberal 
spirit,  and  whose  simplicity  and  grace  of  style 
have  made  her  books  favourites  with  nearly 
two  generations  of  readers,  said,  "  I  believe 
composition  is  a  gift,  not  an  art, — impossible 
to  teach,  though  it  may  be  improved  by  study. 
The  only  suggestion  I  can  make  is  :  Say  what 
you  have  to  say  as  briefly  and  simply  as 
you  ca3i,  avoiding  long  words  and  involved 
sentences,  and  preferring  good  Saxon-English 
to  Latinised.  In  writing,  as  in  most  other 
things,  to  be  your  own  natural  self  without 
affectation  is  the  truest  wisdom." 

Mrs.  Craik  is  not  alone  in  believing  that  the 
native  power  and  temperament,  the  outfit  at 
birth,  counts  for  much. 


•'SQOD  WRITING  : 

Hah  Mr.    HALL  CAINE,  the  author  of    several 

Came.  carefully  composed  and  powerfully  imaginative 
stories — books  so  full  of  good  work  as  to  entitle 
their  writer's  opinion  to  a  respectful  considera 
tion, — asserts  his  conviction  that  the  writer  has 
a  natural  ear  for  the  music  of  words.  <J  With 
out  that  ear  no  great  prose,  as  well  as  no 
great  verse,  was  ever  yet  written.  Oarlyle's 
ear,  with  all  his  angularities  of  manner,  was 
one  of  the  very  finest.  Jeremy  Taylor's  ear 
was  perhaps  perfect.  So  in  another  way  was 
old  Thomas  Fuller's.  Then  how  fine  was 
Bunyan's !  All  these  writers  had  different 
ears  for  the  music  of  style,  or  say  the  same  ear 
but  for  different  harmonies.  Then  Dr.  John 
son's  ear  was  fine,  but  its  powers  limited  in 
range,  and  so  he  gives  us  only  one  great  strain 
of  music,  the  music  of  verbal  antithesis. 
Lander's  ear  was  of  very  wide  range,  and  so  is 
Mr.  Buskin's.  Mr.  Blackmore  has  the  finest 
ear  of  any  man  now  living  for  the  inverted  style 
of  old  English,  and  I  like,  almost  as  much,  the 
direct  strains  of  Wilkie  Collins.  Some  writers 
have  a  fine  sweet  air  running  through  every 
thing  they  write.  Others,  again,  give  no  sensa 
tion  of  that  kind.  So  without  this  natural  ear 


A  GIFT   OB  AN   ABT?  5 

for  prose  I  don't  think  any  writer  will  ever  do  Hall 
great  things."  Mr.  Caine  tells  us  how  he  Came. 
reached  his  own  special  excellence  in  author 
ship  :  "  In  my  youth  I  read  with  great  avidity 
some  models  that  are  usually  considered 
dangerous,  and  I  remember  that  my  imitative 
instinct  was  then  so  strong  that  my  own  writing 
always  reflected  the  author  whom  I  had  been 
reading  last.  Thus  I  began,  oddly  enough,  by 
copying  Lord  Brougham's  weighty  eloquence, 
and  then  went  on  to  imitate  Coleridge's 
involved  sentences,  and  finally,  Carlyle's 
archaisms.  My  models  were  many  and  not 
always  good  ones,  for  I  had  no  guide  whatever 
but  my  own  taste,  being  self-educated  as  far  as 
it  is  possible  for  any  one  to  be  so.  When  I 
began  to  write  for  the  public  in  newspapers  it 
was  complained  that  my  style  was  too  elaborate, 
too  involved,  and  much  too  ornate.  Of  course 
I  used  the  choicest  and  newest  words  in  my 
vocabulary,  and  made  the  mistake  that  older 
men  are  not  always  free  from  of  displaying  my 
knowledge  of  long  words,  and  so  proving  un 
wittingly  that  they  were  strangers  to  me.  I 
remember  that  my  first  book  was  a  good  deal 
disfigured  by  the  same  excess,  and  that  I  had 


6  GOOD  WHITING  : 

Hall  published  at  least  three  books  before  a  better 
Came.  manner  became  natural.  The  real  turning- 
point  was  the  time  when  I  had  to  write  in  great 
haste  for  a  daily  paper.  Having  to  dictate  a 
leading  article  was  a  sore  tax  on  my  arts  of  self- 
mystification  in  labyrinths  of  words,  and  a 
simpler  style  grew  necessary  by  the  very  method 
of  production.  Short,  sharp,  pithy  sentences 
took  the  place  of  long  and  windy  ones,  and  I 
realised  that  I  was  a  better  writer." 

Marie  The  same  opinion  as  to  natural  gift  is  ex- 

Corelh.  presse<j  by  one  of  the  latest,  and  certainly  one 
of  the  most  promising  of  our  younger  authors, 
MAEIE  COEELLI.  "  As  you  ask  me  whether  in 
'  early  life  '  I  gave  myself  to  any  special  training 
for  the  literary  profession,  I  think  it  is  but  fair 
to  tell  you  that  I  am  in  '  early  life '  still  (I 
suppose  you  would  not  call  a  woman  of  four- 
and-twenty  very  old  !),  and  that,  therefore,  my 
'  training,'  if  training  be  considered  a  sine  qua 
lion,  must  perforce  be  going  on  in  my  case  now, 
however  unconsciously  to  myself.  I  never 
thought  of  writing  till  two  years  and  a  half 
ago,*  when,  in  order  to  disburden  my  mind  of 

*  This  letter  was  written  in  September,  1888. 


A  GIFT    OB  AN  ART?  7 

certain  thoughts  that  clamoured  for  utterance,  Marie 
I  produced  '  A  Komance  of  Two  Worlds,' — my  Corelli. 
first  book,  which  met  with  instant  success, 
much  to  my  own  astonishment  and  pleasure. 
Encouraged  thus,  I  followed  up  the  'Romance* 
by  '  Vendetta  !  '  and  '  Thelma,'  and  I  am  now 
busily  engaged  on  my  fourth  book.  My 
education  has  been  varied,  almost  desultory, 
half  foreign,  half  English,  the  usual  sort  of 
thing  bestowed  on  young  ladies  who  are  not 
expected  to  do  aught  in  the  world  but  dress 
fashionably  and  make  themselves  agreeable. 
For  the  rest  I  have  educated  myself.  Always 
fond  of  literature,  I  have,  by  choice  and  free 
will,  studied  Homer  and  the  Classics,  the  best 
French,  German  and  Italian  authors,  together 
with  all  the  finest  works  in  the  English 
language — particularly  the  poets,  such  as 
Byron,  Keats,  Shelley,  and  the  king  of  them 
all,  Shakespeare  ;  and  I  have  systematically  and 
persistently  avoided  reading  the  penny  news 
papers,  detesting  their  morbidness,  vulgarity, 
and  triviality.  The  mere  news,  stated  in  the 
telegrams,  has  always  sufficed  for  me  ;  and  I 
have  fed  my  mind  on  books  in  lieu  of  leading 

articles..    Method  I  have  none,  unless  it  may 
2 


8  GOOD  WRITING  : 

Marie       be  called  methodical  to  go  to  ray  desk  at  10  a.m. 

Cordli.  ana  depart  from  thence  at  2  p.m. ;  during  which 
space  of  time  I  may  do  a  little,  a  great  deal,  or 
nothing  at  all,  according  to  my  humour.  I 
write  for  the  love  of  writing,  not  for  the  sake 
of  money  or  reputation — the  former  I  have  with 
out  exertion,  the  latter  is  not  worth  a  pin's  point 
in  the  general  economy  of  the  vast  universe. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  possible  to  '  train '  any 
one  to  be  an  author.  The  literary  faculty  is  a 
gift  not  to  be  attained  by  any  amount  of  the 
most  patient  and  arduous  study.  It  is  the  out 
come  of  the  mind's  expression  ;  and  the  ques 
tions  I  would  ask  of  any  would-be  writer, 
are  not  '  Have  you  studied  the  art  ? '  or, 
'Have  you  trained  yourself?' — no! — but 
'Have  you  a  thought,  and  is  it  worth  the 
telling?'  If  so,  declare  it,  simply  and  with 
fervour,  regardless  of  what  it  may  bring; 
write  it  as  you  would  speak  it,  and  if  it  has 
true  value  it  will  reach  its  mark.  To  write 
for  the  sake  of  gaining  a  livelihood  only  is  a 
terrible  mistake,  one  that  hundreds  of  authors 
commit  every  day.  Art  always  frowns  on  those 
who  are  too  ready  to  barter  her  for  gold.  Work 
done  for  the  love  of  working  brings  its  own 


A   GIFT   OR  AN  ART?  9 

reward  far  more  quickly  and  surely  than  work  jifari-e 
done  for  mere  payment.     So  far,  at  least,  has   CorellL 
been  my  short  experience,  which  is  possibly 
interesting  on  account  of  my  exceptional  and 
rapid  success  ;  and  most  of  the  authors  I  havo 
come   in   contact  with     are    dissatisfied    and 
insatiate  for  money — a  mood  in  which  inspira 
tion  is  most  absolutely  quenched  and  killed. 

"  You  speak  of  the  *  formation  of  style ' ;  this 
I  feel  sure  can  never  be  done  by  any  system  of 
study,  as  it  is  so  essentially  the  result  of  the 
inner  formation  of  thought.  As  a  man  thinks, 
so  will  he  speak,  and  so  must  he  write,  if  he 
elects  to  handle  the  pen.  This  assertion  is 
borne  out  by  the  fact  that  every  author's 
'  style  '  is  different ;  precisely  for  the  reason 
that  no  two  men  think  alike  on  the  same 
subject.  In  short,  I,  personally  speaking,  owe 
nothing  to  systematic  training;  and  I  believe 
the  biographies  of  many  authors  will  show  the 
same  condition  of  things.  Too  much  study 
leaves  the  brain  no  room  for  original  creative 
work,  and  deadens  the  imaginative  faculties; 
and  without  imagination,  all  literary  work  is 
more  or  less  feeble,  especially  in  the  line  of 
fiction.  It  is  necessary  to  observe  men  and 


10  GOOD  WRITING  : 

Marie  manners  more  than  books,  and  to  needfully 
Corelli.  note  the  vagaries  of  one's  own  heart  even  more 
than  men  and  manners,  for,  as  Emerson  says, 
*  He  vsho  writes  to  his  own  heart,  writes  to  an 
eternal  public.'  Therein  lies  the  secret  of 
Shakespeare's  perpetual  charm. 

"  To  conclude  with  a  few  details,  I  may  add 
that  though  I  write  rapidly,  I  correct  and 
revise  with  an  almost  fastidious  care.  The 
great  Balzac  was  content  to  consider  and 
reconsider  one  sentence  many  times  before 
passing  it  to  the  public ;  and  nowadays  when 
slovenly,  slip-shod  and  ungrammatical  English 
is,  most  unfortunately,  prevalent  in  our  leading 
magazines  and  lighter  works  of  romance,  travel 
and  adventure,  it  behoves  all  those  who  write 
in  the  noble  speech  used  by  Shakespeare  to  be 
more  than  ever  particular  in  the  choice  of 
words,  the  flow  of  language,  and  the  complete 
avoidance  of  slang.  The  literature  of  this  pro 
gressive  age  ought  surely  to  be  able  to  hold  its 
own  with  that  of  the  Addison  and  Steele  era ; 
bufc  so  long  as  the  vulgar  '  society '  papers 
continue  to  have  their  thousands  of  readers,  so 
long  will  fine  taste  and  comprehension  of  good 
literature  be  rare  among  the  majority  of  men. 


A    GIFT   OR  AN   ART?  11 

Finally,  to  quote  the  old  adage,  *  Poets  are  Marie 
born,  not  made ' — and  so  are  novelists,  essay-  Corelli. 
ists,  and  scientists,  believe  me  !  and  no  culture 
will  make  a  man  an  author  if  it  is  not  in  him  ; 
while  as  for  method,  there  are  no  such  un- 
methodical  beings  in  the  world  as  literary 
celebrities  !  They  are  the  joyous  '  Bohemians  ' 
of  society,  all  the  world  is  their  nation  ;  they 
wander  here,  there,  and  everywhere  with  the 
most  delightful  freedom  from  routine  and 
restraint,  and  for  those  who  love  their  work,  I 
think  a  literary  life  is  the  most  enjoyable  under 
the  sun.  But  for  those  who  take  to  it  from 
sheer  necessity,  and  grind  drearily  on,  day  after 
day,  counting  the  pages  they  cover,  and  wonder 
ing  vaguely  how  much  they  will  get  for  it  all 
when  it  is  done,  no  existence  is  more  bitter, 
disappointing,  and  fatiguing;  and  I  would 
never  advise  any  one  to  take  to  the  literary 
profession,  unless  the  love  of  it  was  so  strong 
and  passionate  that  nothing  else  would  suffice 
them  for  happiness." 

Professor    THOMAS     HENRY   HUXLEY    evi-  /y^ 
dently  holds  the  same  opinion  regarding  the  Huxley. 
literary  faculty.     "  I  never  had   the  fortune, 


12  GOOD  WRITING: 

Prof.  good  or  evil,"  be  says,  "  to  receive  any  guidance 
Huxley,  or  instruction  in  the  art  of  English  composi 
tion.  It  is  possibly  for  that  reason  I  have 
always  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  common  advice 
to  '  study  good  models,'  to  '  give  your  days  and 
nights  to  the  study  of  Addison/  and  so  on. 
Buffon  said  that  a  man's  style  is  his  very  self, 
find  in  my  judgment  it  ought  to  be  so.  The 
business  of  a  young  writer  is  not  to  ape  Addi 
son  or  Defoe,  Hobbes  or  Gibbon,  but  to  make 
his  style  himself,  as  they  made  their  styles 
themselves.  They  were  great  writers,  in  the 
first  place,  because,  by  dint  of  learning  and 
thinking,  they  had  acquired  clear  and  vivid 
conceptions  about  one  or  other  of  the  many 
aspects  of  men  or  things.  In  the  second  place, 
because  they  took  infinite  pains  to  embody 
these  conceptions  in  language  exactly  adapted 
to  convey  them  to  other  minds.  In  the  third 
place,  because  they  possessed  that  purely 
artistic  sense  of  rhythm  and  proportion  which 
enabled  them  to  add  grace  to  force,  and,  while 
loyal  to  truth,  make  exactness  subservient  to 
beauty. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  the  principles  I  have  laid 
down  have  been  my   own   guides ;   they  are 


A   GIFT    OB  AN  ART?  13 

rather  the  result  of  a  long  experience.     A  con-  prof. 
siderable  vein  of  indolence  runs  through  my  Huxley, 
composition,    and  forty  years  ago  there   was 
nothing  I  disliked  so  much  as  the  labour  of 
writing.     It  was  a  task  I  desired  to  get  over 
and  done  with  as  soon  as  possible.     The  result 
was  such  as  might  be  expected. 

"  If  there  is  any  merit  in  my  English  now, 
it  is  due  to  the  fact  that  I  have  by  degrees 
become  awake  to  the  importance  of  the  three 
conditions  of  good  writing  which  I  have  men 
tioned.  I  have  learned  to  spare  no  labour 
upon  the  process  of  acquiring  clear  ideas — to 
think  nothing  of  writing  a  page  four  or  five 
times  over  if  nothing  less  will  bring  the  words 
which  express  all  that  I  mean,  and  nothing 
more  than  I  mean ;  and  to  regard  rhetorical 
verbosity  as  the  deadliest  and  most  degrading 
of  literary  sins.  Any  one  who  possesses  a 
tolerably  clear  head  and  a  decent  conscience 
should  be  able,  if  he  will  give  himself  the 
necessary  trouble,  thus  to  fulfil  the  first  two 
conditions  of  a  good  style.  The  carrying  out 
of  the  third  depends,  neither  on  labour  nor  on 
honesty,  but  on  that  sense  which  is  inborn  m 
the  literary  artist,  and  can  by  no  means  be 


14 


GOOD   WRITING 


Prof. 
Huxley. 


fean 
Inge  tow. 


given  to  him  who  has  it  not  as  his  birthright. 
I  should  so  much  like  to  flatter  myself  that  I 
am  one  of  the  *  well-horn  '  in  this  respect  that 
I  dare  not  speculate  on  the  subject.  Vanity, 
like  sleeping  dogs,  should  be  let  lie." 

JEAN  INGELOW,  the  author  of  a  few  stories 
and  of  many  poems,  valuable  no  less  for  the 
thought  that  is  everywhere  apparent  than  for 
the  loftiness  of  their  aim  and  the  spiritual 
refinement  that  distinguishes  their  literary 
style,  bears  testimony  in  the  same  direction  as 
the  writers  already  quoted.  She  says,  "  I  did 
not  at  any  time  of  my  life  study  with  a  view  to 
the  formation  of  style,  but  I  always  took  a 
delight  in  beautiful  thoughts  well  expressed.  I 
did  not  of  course  foresee  that  I  should  be  a 
writer  of  books,  and  only  found  out  that  I 
could  write  by  writing.  If  you  wish  to  mention 
my  case  to  young  people  who  would  fain  write 
well,  it  should,  I  think,  be  rather  as  a  warning 
than  an  example.  I  did  not  learn  to  write 
verse  any  more  than  children  who  have  an  ear 
for  music  learn  to  sing  in  tune  ;  they  do  that 
by  nature,  and  so  I  wrote  verse  from  the  first 
without  false  rhymes.  The  difference  between 


A   GIFT    OB  AN  AET?  15 

a  natural  gift  and  an  acquired  possession  is  not  Jean 
enough  considered.  The  present  which  is 
made  to  some  of  us  at  our  birth  is  not  that 
same  thing  which  the  others  can  acquire  by 
study,  by  thought,  and  by  time.  But  though 
what  is  acquired  is  not  the  same,  yet  those  who 
have  a  gift  can  never  make  it  what  it  was 
meant  to  be  until  the  other  has  been  added. 
I  regret  that  I  did  not  enrich  my  mind  with 
wide  knowledge,  did  not  make  myself  thorough 
mistress  of  any  science.  For  style  is  mainly 
expression.  I  believe  that  it  comes  by  nature, 
but  those  can  use  it  best  who  have  most  to 
express,  and  I  might  have  had  more.  There 
will  probably  be  among  your  readers  some  who 
can  express  gracefully  and  forcefully  whatever 
the}7"  know  and  feel.  I  think  they  should 
cultivate  their  minds  and  let  their  style 
alone.  There  will  be  others  who  know  a 
great  deal  already,  but  have  no  power  to 
express  it.  These  should  intently  study  our 
best  writers,  find  out,  not  what  they  said, 
but  how  they  said  it — in  how  few  words  they 
could  make  their  meaning  clear,  and  with 
what  graceful  art  they  could  advance  their 
opinions." 


16  GOOD  WRITING: 

Louise  Speaking   of  her  own  style  of  writing,  the 

^oufton  gracem*  American  poet,  LOUISE  CHANDLEB 
MOULTON,  says,  "  I  hardly  know  what  to  say 
•  about  it.  I  don't  think  I  ever  consciously 
tried  for  it.  It  was  partly  instinct,  partly  love 
of  the  best  books.  Words  are  a  delight  to  me, 
as  colours  are  to  a  painter.  I  cannot  express 
my  pleasure  in  a  beautiful  sentence.  I  think 
one  can't  acquire  a  good  style  unless  one  has 
the  natural  gift,  as  one  must  have  an  ear  for 
music.  Then  this  gift  must  be  cultivated  by 
the  careful  and  constant  reading  of  the  best 
masters.  Any  one  can  use  words  correctly, 
but  to  use  them  forcibly,  picturesquely  is 
another  thing.  A  gift  for  music,  art,  literature, 
needs  cultivation ;  but  there  must  be  the  gift 
to  cultivate.  To  dig  about  a  weed  and  water 
it  will  not  turn  it  into  a  rose." 

" Rita"  A.  somewhat  strange  experience  is  related  by 
Mrs.  RITA  L.  VON  BOOTH,  the  popular  author 
of  many  light,  sparkling  novels,  who  sends  her 
books  into  the  world  under  the  nom  de  guerre 
of  "  Rita."  "I  can  only  say  that  to  me  the  art 
of  composition  has  always  seemed  a  natural 
gift.  My  early  life  was  passed  in  a  wild  part 


A   GIFT    OR   AN   ATIT  ?  17 

of  Australia.     I  have   never  been   to   school,   "  Rita." 
and  I  am  sure  my  education  would  make  a 
poor  show  beside  that  of  the  '  High  School  ' 
young  lady  of  the  present  day,  or  the  still  more 
ambitious   '  Girton  '  girl.     I  was  always  very 
fond  of  writing   essays  on  any  subject,  and 
would  often  do  them  for  my  brothers  for  the 
mere  pleasure  of  the  composition.    The  idea  of 
writing  books  never   entered   my   head   until 
two  years  after  I  was  married,  and  then  it  was 
suggested  by  my  husband,  and  taken  up  by 
myself  as  an  experiment.     I  am  afraid  if  you 
knew  the  manner  in  which  I  write  my  stories 
you  would  be  very  disappointed.     Most  of  my 
literary  friends  are  shocked,  as  I  never  draw 
out  plots,  or  give  much  thought  to  the  book, 
but  simply  dash  it  off  as  the  fancy  takes  me. 
Writing  is  so  little  effort  that  I  often  fear  I  do 
too  much.     You  see  I  am  very  frank  with  you, 
as  I  ought  to  be  after  your  appreciative  letter 
—  but  I  have  always  maintained  that  to  write 
fluently  and  gracefully  is  a  natural  gift,  though 
a  gift  that  must  be  elaborated  and  cultivated 
just  like  any  other." 

A  few  words  from  another  writer  of  light  ' 


ford. 


18  GOOD  WHITING: 

Mrs.  M.    fiction  may   not   be   unacceptable.     Mrs.   M. 

Hunger-  HuNGEBFOED,  the  author  of  "Molly  Bawn," 
and  of  an  almost  incredible  number  of  stories, 
spirited  in  plot,  sparkling  in  dialogue,  however 
lacking  they  may  be  in  higher  elements  of 
thought  and  expression,  says  of  herself,  "  I 
write  when  the  desire  to  do  so  comes  into  my 
head,  and  I  fling  my  pen  aside  when  I  feel 
dull.  I  wrote  my  first  accepted  story  when 
I  was  eighteen ;  but  when  I  was  about 
nine  or  ten,  I  remember  I  used  to  write 
poetry  that  now  makes  me  hot  all  over 
only  to  think  of.  I  wrote  at  school  a  com 
position  on  '  Rain  '  that  took  the  prize,  and 
this  I  always  look  upon  as  my  first  be 
trayal  of  any  little  talent  in  the  writing 
line  I  may  possess.  I  do  not  think  all  the 
study  in  the  world  will  produce  that  talent, 
but  if  the  talent  is  there  it  should  be 
carefully  cultivated.  I  myself  read  a  great 
deal,  and  so,  I  suppose,  does  every  other 
author.  I  wrote  totally  unaided.  I  knew  no 
author  when  T  began.  I  had  not  a  single 
'  friend  at  Court.'  I  merely  mention  this  as 
an  encouragement  to  any  who  may  feel 
nervous  about  beginning." 


A  GIFT    OR  AN   ART?  19 

G.  A.   HENTY,   an  author  standing  in  the   Q  ^ 
front  rank  of  writers  for  young  people,  whose  Henty\ 
stories,  full  of  stirring  adventure  and  healthy 
stimulus,  are  told  in  a  delightfully  crisp  and 
animated    style,    makes    the    same    assertion 
regarding   mental    endowment.      "I    do    not 
think,"  he  says,  "  that  any  teaching  system,  or 
course  of  instruction,  can  result  in  turning  out 
an  author.     With  prose  writers  or  with  poets 
a  man  is  born,  not  made.     If  he  has  a  natural 
gift  for  it  he  will  turn  out  a  good  writer,  if  not 
nothing   will   make  him  so.     I  think  that  a 
turn  for  writing  is  shown  young,  just  as  a  turn 
for   art  is  almost   always   displayed  in   early 
boyhood.     Dickens  makes  David  Copperfield, 
whose   life   was  sketched  from  his  own,  tell 
stories  to  his  schoolfellows  in  bed.    A  classical 
education  may  possibly  assist  in  forming  style, 
but  I  think  the  aid  is  small,  for  scarcely  one 
of  the  prominent  novelists   of  the   day   is   a 
University  man,  and  women  who  know  nothing 
about  the  classics  are  as  good  writers  of  fiction 
as  men  are.     The  number  of  boys   with   an 
instinct  for  writing  is  small.     When  I  edited 
The  Union  Jack,  we    had  prize  competitions 
for  tales,  &c. ;  but  of  many  hundreds,  I  may 


20  GOOD  WRITING: 

G.  A.        say  thousands,  of  tales  and  essays  sent  in  for 
Ilenty*       these  competitions,  there  were  not  half-a-dozen 
that  showed  any  promise  of  excellence. 

"  As  to  my  own  experience,  I  began  young. 
I  was  always  a  great  hand  at  story-telling  at 
school,  and  always  got  the  highest  marks  in 
every  form  for  English  composition.  When 
about  twenty  I  wrote  my  first  novel.  It  was 
very  bad,  no  doubt,  and  was  of  course  never 
published,  bat  the  plot  was  certainly  a  good 
one.  At  one-and-twenty  I  went  out  to  the 
Crimea  in  the  Commissariat  Department. 
Some  of  my  letters  home  were  taken  by 
my  father  to  the  editor  of  The  Morning 
Advertiser — a  perfect  stranger  to  him — who 
read  them,  and  at  once  appointed  me  corre 
spondent  to  the  paper  in  the  Crimea.  For  the 
next  ten  years  I  had  other  work  to  do  ;  then  I 
again  turned  to  writing,  and  soon  after  I  was 
thirty  obtained  the  berth  of  special  corre 
spondent  to  The  Standard.  I  wrote  two 
novels,  then  no  other  book  for  some  time.  I 
came  to  writing  for  boys  in  this  wise.  I  used 
always  to  have  my  children  with  me  for  an 
hour  after  dinner,  and  to  tell  them  stories. 
These  stories  were  continuous,  and  often  lasted 


A   GIFT   OR   AN  ART?  21 

for  weeks.    One  day  it  struck  me,  If  my  young  Q, 
ones  like  my  stories,  why  should  not  others  ? 
I,  therefore,  each  day  wrote  a  chapter  and  read 
it  to  them,  instead  of  telling  it ;  and  when  the 
story    was    of   proper    length    sent    it    to   a          4 
publisher  who  at  once  accepted  it.    Since  then 
I  have  written  some  thirty-five  story-books. 

"  My  advice  to  boys  who  want  to  become 
authors  would  be  this  :  Write  a  story  and  get 
some  person  in  whose  judgment  you  have  con 
fidence  to  give  you  his  opinion  frankly 
whether  there  is  any  promise  in  it.  If  he 
says  no,  give  the  thing  up  altogether.  If  he 
says  yes,  and  you  really  feel  that  you  have  a 
talent  for  telling  stories,  and  find  that  your 
stories  are  liked  by  your  schoolfellows,  then 
write,  and  write,  and  write.  Burn  all  you 
write,  for  until  you  are  two  or  three  and 
twenty  you  will  certainly  not  write  anything 
worth  reading.  But  the  habit  of  writing  will 
improve  your  style  and  give  you  facility,  and 
if  there  is  really  anything  in  you,  you  ought 
by  that  time  to  be  able  to  turn  out  good  stuff." 

B.    M.   BALLANTYNE,   another   story-writer  R.  Af. 

for  boys,  the  author  of  a  large  number  of  books  Ballan' 

tyne. 


22 


GOOD   WRITING  : 


M.  which  every  healthy-minded  boy  may  read 
™'  with  moral  advantage  as  well  as  exciting 
interest,  bears  similar  testimony.  "  I  have 
had  no  training  for  the  life-work  to  which 
I  have  been  called,"  he  says.  "  The 
power  with  which  you  credit  me,  whatever 
may  be  its  value,  I  regard  as  a  direct  gift 
from  God.  By  that  I  mean  that,  not  only  did 
I  receive  no  special  training  with  a  view  to 
literature  as  a  profession,  but  for  many  years  I 
was  placed  in  circumstances  adverse  to  such 
training — six  years  of  my  early  manhood 
having  been  spent  in  the  backwoods  of 
America,  where  I  saw  not  more  than  half-a- 
dozen  books,  and  no  newspapers  at  all  from 
one  year's  end  to  the  other  !  I  mention  this 
not  to  show  that  the  absence  of  training  is  an 
advantage,  but  that  the  powers  given  to  us 
may  sometimes  be  used  with  considerable 
advantage  in  spite  of  the  want  of  training.  At 
the  same  time  I  cannot  express  too  forcibly 
my  belief  that  such  want  of  training  is  a 
very  great  misfortune,  which  cannot  be  too 
earnestly  guarded  against  by  young  people 
who  are  either  aiming  at  a  literary  career  or 
desirous  of  acquiring  an  agreeable  and  correct 


A  GIFT   OB  AN   AKT  ?  23 

style.  Of  course  the  spending  of  many  years  #.  J/. 
in  writing  books  has  been  of  itself  a  species  of  Ballan- 
training  to  me,  and  I  could  not  have  reached  - 
the  present  period  of  my  life  without  having 
formed  some  clear  and  definite  ideas  on  the 
subject  of  composition.  ...  I  may  add 
that,  in  my  experience,  '  correcting  the  press  ' 
has  been  the  cutting  out  of  redundancies, 
parentheses,  needless  adjectives  and  conjunc 
tions,  the  simplification  of  sentences,  and  the 
changing  of  inappropriate  words  for  those  that 
are  more  suitable.  My  practice  has  always 
been  to  give  my  whole  mind  to  my  subject 
when  composing,  never  allowing  thoughts  of 
style  or  diction  to  hamper  me,  but  attending 
to  these  carefully  when  revising  the  manu 
script  for  press." 

JOHN  STEANGE  WINTER  is  the  nom  de  guerre  John 
of  Mrs.  Henrietta  E.  V.  Stannard,  the  author  Sf range 
of  the  popular  story,   "  Bootle's  Baby,"    "  to 
whom  we  owe,"  as  John  Kuskin  so  truly  says, 
"  the  most  finished  and  faithful  rendering  ever 
yet    given   of  the   character    of    the    British 
soldier."     "I  hardly  know  myself,"  she  con 
fesses,  "how  or  why  I  am  able  to  write  the 
3 


24  GOOD    WKITING  : 

fohn  books  I  do.  I  was  a  thorough  bad  lot  at  school, 
Strange  bright,  I  think,  and  quick,  but  with  DO  per- 
Wtn  er.  severance  whatever,  no  patience,  no  applica 
tion.  And  certainly  now  I  have  all  those  quali 
ties  in  an  extraordinary  degree.  I  don't  know 
what  changed  me.  I  had  an  immense  ambition 
to  be  a  writer;  and  when  my  father  died  in 
'77,  leaving  nothing— well,  it  was  that  or  some 
thing  less  palatable.  At  that  time  I  was  just 
twenty-one.  I  had  done  a  little — I  think  I  had 
made  under  £50.  After  that  I  went  in  for 
writing  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else. 
I  was  not  well  educated,  for  I  never  would 
learn ;  but  I  had  lived  with  a  scholarly  gentle 
man — my  father  was  Rev.  H.  V.  Palmer,  rector 
of  St.  Margaret's,  York — and  I  had  always 
been  from  a  little  child  a  voracious  reader,  and 
determined  to  get  on.  Up  to  that  time  I  had 
cared  only  for  men's  novels,  the  Kingsleys, 
Charles  Eeade,  Whyte  Melville,  W.  Collins 
and  Mortimer  Collins ;  but  after  I  had  been 
writing  awhile,  I  found  myself  gradually  slip 
ping  into  the  Rhoda  Broughton  school.  Then 
all  at  once  I  awoke  to  the  folly  of  letting  my 
self  drift  into  a  first-person,  present-tense  style, 
which  I  thoroughly  despised,  and  a  lecture  of 


A   GIFT    OR   AN  ART?  25 

Mr.  Buskin's  to  art  students  put  me  on  the  John 

right  track.     After   that,   how  I   worked!     I 

Winter. 
have  many  a  time  written  a  story  eight  or  nine 

times  over  before  I  satisfied  myself  with  it.  I 
used  to  take  a  novel  of  W.  Collins  and  pick 
the  sentences  to  pieces,  note  the  crisp,  concise 
style  of  them,  and  get  them  into  my  head,  so 
to  speak.  Then  I  would  go  at  my  own  work, 
never  using  a  long  word  when  I  could  find 
a  short  one  to  answer  the  same  purpose  ;  never 
using  a  Latin  word  when  I  could  find  a  Saxon 
one  to  express  the  same  meaning ;  never  using 
two  adjectives  where  one  would  do,  or  one  at 
all  when  it  could  be  avoided  ;  never  describing 
dress  if  I  could  help  it ;  never  using  a  French 
word  unless  impossible  to  find  the  same 
meaning  in  English,  and  never  quoting  bits  of 
poetry  unless  really  necessary. 

"Mind,  I  don't  hold  this  plan  up  to  others. 
I  worried  through  myself,  fairly  groping  my 
way,  and  always  keeping  before  me  that  I 
must  never  write  anything  even  bordering  on 
profanity.  A  sentence  of  Artemus  Ward's 
puts  that  so  well,  '  I  never  stain  my  writings 
with  profanity  ;  in  the  first  place  it  is  indecent, 
and  in  the  second  it  is  cot  funny/  I  could 


26 


GOOD   WHITING  : 


John 

Strange 

Winter. 


Ernst 
Haeckel 


tell  you  a  great  deal  of  my  early  struggles  for 
a  name  which  I  can  hardly  write,  and  there 
is  so  much  which  I  know  and  feel  which  I 
cannot  clearly  express.  It  is  such  a  difficult 
profession  ours — there  are  so  many  little 
points  which  only  practice  teaches,  and  you 
don't  know  why  they  are  there,  and  often  not 
that  they  are  there  at  all. 

"  I  had  written  thus  far  when  I  was  called 
away.  And  now  I  have  come  back  again 
there  seems  no  more  to  say,  except  that  all  the 
work  in  the  world  is  no  use  without  the  little 
touch  of  divine  genius,  which  is  born,  not 
made ;  and  without  the  work,  and  care,  and 
thought,  the  genius  is  like  the  talent  hidden 
in  a  napkin." 

I  may  here  interpolate  the  translation  of  a 
letter  from  one  of  the  best-known  con 
temporary  German  authors.  EENST  HAECKEL, 
as  a  scientific  naturalist,  has  made  for  himself 
a  lasting  reputation  in  the  realm  of  compara 
tive  anatomy  and  zoology.  The  larger  number 
of  his  long  list  of  works  have  been  written  for 
the  scientist,  but  the  books  which  have  made 
him  so  widely  renowned  as  a  Darwinian  more 


A   GIFT  OB  AN   ABT?  27 

pronounced  than  Darwin  himself  are  composed  Ernst 
in  a  simple,  straightforward  style,  well  adapted  Haeckel 
for  popular  reading.  "  I  much  fear,"  he  says, 
"  that  your  estimate  of  my  writings  is  placed 
too  high,  and  that  many  critics  would  not 
agree  with  you.  Since  you  are  specially  inter 
ested  in  my  style,  and  wish  to  know  what 
methods  I  use  in  my  literary  composition,  I 
can  only  reply  that  an  inhom  talent  favours  me 
possibly,  and  that  from  early  youth  on  1  have 
wished  to  give  my  thoughts  a  clear  and  ^precise 
expression.  Special  literary  education  I  have 
had  none,  nor  have  I  bestowed  any  care  on 
artistic  composition.  I  have  not  even  read 
much ;  mostly  Goethe,  Lessing,  Humboldt, 
Schleider,  Huxley  and  Darwin.  I  have  always 
endeavoured  to  acknowledge  nature  as  the 
first  and  best  mistress." 

Professor    JOHN    TYNDALL    may    also    be  Prof. 
quoted  in  this  connection.     He  may  surely  be   •Lyndai  - 
regarded  not  only  as  one  of  the  foremost  living 
men  of  science,  but  also  as  one  of  the  clearest 
and  most  forcible  writers  of  the  day.     Writing 
from  Alp  Lusgen,  his  summer  home  amid  the 
Swiss   mountains,   he   says :    "  Emerson   ha3 


zo  GOOD  WRITING: 

Prof.  said  in  one  of  his  essays  that  there  are 
JyndalL  methods  in  mathematics  which  are  incom 
municable,  and  it  certainly  would  he  a 
difficult,  if  not  an  impossible  task  for  me  to 
tell  you  how  I  reached  the  style  of  which  you 
are  kind  enough  to  speak  so  favourably.  To 
think  clearly  is  the  first  requisite ;  and  here, 
though  even  my  friends  think  me  rapid,  I  am 
in  reality  very  slow.  My  next  aim  is  to 
express  clearly  in  writing  what  I  think.  But 
clearness  is  not,  of  itself,  sufficient  to  make  a 
style.  And  here  we  come  to  the  really  incom 
municable  part  of  the  matter.  A  good  ear,  a 
sound  judgment,  and  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
English  grammar — all  contribute.  But  the 
turn  of  a  sentence,  and  even  the  construction 
of  a  sentence,  will  sometimes  flash  upon  the 
mind  in  a  manner  not  to  be  described.  I 
suppose  I  must  have  had  a  natural  liking  for  a 
good  style,  for  I  remember,  when  very  young, 
urging  upon  an  equally  youthful  correspondent 
the  necessity  of  paying  attention  to  this 
subject.  I  suppose,  prior  to  liking  it  I  must 
have  experienced  the  charm  of  a  good  style  ; 
and  what  I  have  called  my  natural  liking 
simply  consisted  in  being  able  to  feel  delight 


A   GIFT   OK    AN   ART?  29 

in   finch  a  style  when  it  came  before  me.     I  Prof. 
read  Blair's  lectures  on  Rhetoric  before  I  left    Tyndall. 
school,  and  found  the  work  useful  to  ine.     I 
am  here  surrounded  by  Alpine  snows,  and  a 
desultory  letter  is  all  I  am  able  to  send  you." 

JAMES  RUSSELL    LOWELL,   the    author   of  fames 
"  The  Biglow  Papers,"  a  poet  of  world-wide 
celebrity,  a  prose  writer  cf  exquisite  charm,  is 
surely,   for  penetration,    pungency,    wit,    for 
brilliant  and  incisive   epigram,    for    dignified 
eloquence,    the    master    of    living    American 
authors.     "  I  am  inclined  to  think,"  he  writes, 
"  that  a  man's  style  is  born  with  him,  and  that 
a  style  modelled  upon  another's  is  apt  to  be 
none  or  worse.     Of  course  I  mean  consciously 
modelled,  for  frequent  commerce  with  the  best 
writers  is  as  essential  a  3  that  with  good  society 
to  give  tone — perhaps  is  the  only   thing  that 
will  give  it.     If  I  have  attained  to  any  clear 
ness  of  style,  I  think  it  is  partly  due  to  my 
having  had  to  lecture  twenty  years  as  a  pro 
fessor  at  Harvard.     It  was  always  present  to 
my  consciousness  that  whatever  I  said  must 
be  understood  at  once  by  my  hearers,  or  never. 
Out   of  this  I,  almost  without    knowing  it, 


30  GOOD    WRITING  I 

fames  formulated  the  rule  that  every  sentence  must 
Russell  ke  clear  jn  itself,  and  never  too  long  to  be 
carried,  without  risk  of  losing  its  balance,  on 
a  single  breath  of  the  speaker.  If  I  have 
ever  sinned  against  this  rule,  it  has  been  in 
despite  of  my  better  conscience.  I  think, 
therefore,  that  it  is  always  a  good  test  of  what 
one  has  written  to  read  it  to  oneself  in  default 
of  other,  and,  in  my  own  case  at  least,  less 
critical  audience.  I  fear  I  have  not  contri 
buted  much  to  a  fruitful  discussion  of  the 
subject,  but  I  have  done  what  I  could.  You 
see  that  I  have  reversed  the  dictum  of  Horace  : 

'  Segnius  irritant  animos  demissa  per  aurem 
Quam  quce  sunt  oculis  suljecla  fidelibus.' 

Cato's  advice,  '  Cum  bonis  ambula,'  is  all  that 
one  feels  inclined  to  give." 

Edmund  Another  American  author,  EDMUND  CLAPV- 
Clarence  ENCE  STEDMAN,  whose  poems  and  essays  are 
admirable  models  of  restraint,  moderation, 
flexibility,  and  finish,  writes  to  say,  "  I  am  the 
more  impressed  the  longer  I  live  with  the 
force  of  Buffon's  saying.  Yes,  the  style  is 
indeed  the  man.  When  a  young  fellow  con 
sults  me  as  to  his  mode  of  making  a  speech  or 


A   GIFT  OB  AN   ART?  31 

writing  an  article,  I  tell  him  the  first  thing  is  Edmund 

to  have   something  to  say,  i.e.,  something  he    Clarence 

,  ,.        ,         .,,          ...      Stedman* 
must  say  or  express,  and  then  he  will  say  it  in 

his  natural  and  special  way;  and  his  way 
forms  his  style,  and  the  style  is  thus  the  man. 
Style  is,  like  the  style  of  other  arts  than  litera 
ture,  '  a  means  of  expression '  only.  Still, 
fluency  of  expression,  or  its  compactness,  or 
happy  originalities,  all  these  are  natural  gifts, 
and  often  inherited.  For  my  humble  self,  I 
inherited  from  my  mother  (a  natural  poet  and 
critic)  a  knack  of  writing  and  speaking  what  I 
think,  and  as  I  think  it.  In  youth  I  was 
reared  in  a  Puritan  New  England  family, 
with  surroundings  that  seemed  cold,  barren, 
austere  to  a  boy  whose  strongest  passion  was 
a  love  of  beauty  ;  but  our  New  Englaid  house 
holds  are  not  barren  of  books  and  mental 
pabulum.  I  read  eagerly  what  few  of  our 
young  people  now  read,  rarely  getting  hold  of 
trash  or  imitative,  recent  literature.  Sunday 
was  my  reading-day  par  excellence ;  and  as  I 
was  permitted  to  read  nothing  more  '  secular ' 
than  Banyan  and  Milton,  I  read  those  noble 
writers  over  and  over  again,  and  suppose  that 
my  style  was  insensibly  affected  by  their 


32  GOOD   WRITING  ! 

Edmund   methods  and  vocabularies.     My  first  own  book 
Clarence    of  poetry  was  '  Scott's  Poetical  Works,'  which 
Stedman.  j  deligilte^  jn>  the  folklore   '  notes  '  and  all. 
Afterwards  I  became    familiar    with    Byron, 
Moore,  Coleridge,  Shelley,  Keats,  Wordsworth, 
and  of  course   with  our  own  Bryant,  Long 
fellow,  Hawthorne,  Poe,  &c.     But  my  prose 
style  owes  most  to  familiarity  with  the  Bible, 
Bunyan,  Milton,  Defoe,  in  early  youth." 

T  iv  One  of  the  most  graceful  and  genial  essay- 

Higgin-  ists  of  America,  and  a  poet  whose  verse  is 
marked  by  an  exquisite  grace  and  delicacy 
of  expression,  THOMAS  WENTWOETH  HIGGIN- 
SON,  regards  himself  as  an  illustration  of 
how  a  gift  for  literature  may  be  transmitted 
and  accumulated  from  one  generation  to 
another,  and  then  developed  into  a  life-long 
pursuit.  Born  amid  a  world  of  books  and 
bookish  men,  he  says,  "  I  came  to  literature 
by  heredity.  The  printer's  ink  in  my  blood  is 
really  300  years  old,  my  first  American  pro 
genitor,  Rev.  Francis  Higginson,  of  Salem, 
born  in  1587,  having  come  here  in  1629  and 
printed  a  book,  written  in  most  racy  and  at 
tractive  style,— 'New England's  Plantation,'— 


son. 


A   GIFT    OR  AN  ATIT  ?  33 

which  is  still  reprinted.  His  son,  Rev.  John  T.  W. 
Higginson,  was  a  profuse  scribbler,  and  printed  Higgb* 
much.  Then  the  habit  skipped  several  genera 
tions,  during  which  my  progenitors  in  the 
male  line  were  quiet  town  clerks,  justices  of 
the  peace,  &c.  ;  but  my  grandfather,  Stephen 
Higginson  (member  of  Congress  in  1783),  was 
a  vigorous  pamphleteer,  and  my  father  wrote 
one  or  two  pamphlets.  My  mother  also  (nee 
Storrow,  daughter  of  a  captain  in  the  British 
army)  wrote  several  children's  books,  and  my 
elder  brother  a  small  anti-slavery  book.  Then, 
as  we  lived  in  Cambridge,  my  father  being 
Steward,  now  called  Bursar,  of  Harvard 
University,  1  was  always  in  a  bookish  atmo 
sphere.  In  college  I  was  the  second-best 
writer  in  the  class,  though  the  youngest 
member ;  and  I  there  had  the  inestimable 
guidance  of  Professor  Edward  Charming, 
brother  of  the  Eev.  Dr.  W.  E.  Channing,  who 
turned  out  more  good  writers  than  any  half- 
dozen  other  rhetorical  teachers  in  America, 
including  Emerson,  Holmes,  Motley,  Hale, 
Parkman,  &c.  So  I  -came  to  writing  natu 
rally,  and  have  always  enjoyed  it  very 
much." 


34  GOOD  WRITING  : 

Julian  JULIAN  HAWTHORNE  is  the  son  of  Nathaniel 
Jlaw-  Hawthorne.  Clothing  the  weird,  fantastic, 
demoniac  stories  in  which  his  imagination 
loved  to  revel  in  a  style  so  sweet,  natural, 
perspicuous,  so  easy  even  in  its  most  curious 
felicities,  so  marked  by  originality  and  in 
describable  fascination,  the  father  certainly 
remains  unsurpassed  by  any  other  American 
author,  past  or  present.  The  son  is  no  un 
worthy  follower  in  the  steps  of  his  sire.  His 
passionate  individuality  and  sterling  character 
istics  as  a  wiiter  place  him  decidedly  above 
the  average  novelist.  "As  regards  my  early 
training,"  he  says,  "  I  can  hardly  tell  whether 
I  had  any  or  not.  I  did  not  expect  to  be  an 
author  until  some  time  after  my  first  ventures 
were  written  and  published.  When  I  was  a 
boy  of  twelve  or  thereabouts,  I  was  interested 
in  conchology,  and  used  to  write  in  little 
blank  books  minute  descriptions  of  the  shells 
which  I  collected.  The  usual  boys'  journals 
and  letters  to  boy  friends  and  others  were 
part  of  my  literary  experience  ;  and  I  suppose 
these  were  neither  above  nor  below  the 
average  of  such  things.  In  school  my  '  com 
positions  '  were  flat  and  perfunctory,  and  were 


A   GIFT   OR  AN  AUT  ?  35 

marked  down  pretty  low.  In  college  I  wrote  juiian 
but  one  theme,  and  that  was  for  a  fellow-  ftaw- 
student,  on  the  subject  of  Tennyson's  '  Two 
Voices  ' — a  poem  with  which  I  happened  to  be 
familiar.  This  solitary  effort,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  received  the  first  prize.  I  was 
brought  up  on  Spenser's  '  Faerie  Qaeene,' 
Scott's  poems  and  novels,  and  my  own  father's 
works.  Later  I  was  a  diligent  reader  of 
Tennyson.  I  believe  I  wrote  some  verses  of  a 
philosophico-erotic  character.  I  read  Macaulay, 
De  Quincey,  Emerson,  and  Carlyle ;  and  I 
think  the  best  proof  that  the  reading  was  not 
in  vain  was  the  unflinching  condemnation  it 
caused  me  to  pass  on  everything  that  I 
produced  myself.  I  perceived  that  I  knew 
nothing,  and  that  years  must  pass  before  I 
could  write  anything  worth  printing.  And 
though  I  have  been  in  print  for  sixteen  years, 
I  often  doubt  whether  that  period  has  yet 
arrived.  I  have  never  been  in  love  with  my 
own  work ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I  never 
believe  that  I  am  incapable  of  better  work 
than  I  have  ever  done.  Leisure  and  oppor 
tunity  have  been  wanting. 

"  1  am  disposed  to  think  that  literary  style 


36  GOOD  WKITING  : 

Julian  is  largely  a  matter  of  innate  aptitude,  and  is 
Haw-  fostered  as  much  by  the  study  of  good  authors 
as  by  personal  efforts.  Neither  cause  will 
produce  a  good  style  without  the  other,  and 
both  are  in  vain  without  natural  taste  and  pre 
dilection.  First  know  what  is  good,  then 
learn  to  do  it.  The  best  writing  is  always  the 
most  spontaneous  and  easy,  not  only  in 
appearance,  but  actually.  Smoothness  and 
elegance  can  be  obtained  by  '  filing '  ;  but  the 
masters  of  style  have  no  files ;  they  are  right 
the  first  time,  by  a  sort  of  trained  instinct  and 
intuition.  Of  course  I  do  not  mean  that  any 
one  can  write  well  until  after  long  and  arduous 
apprenticeship ;  and,  to  mention  an  experi 
ence  of  my  own,  though  I  am  far  enough  from 
being  a  master  of  st}7le,  one  of  my  early  novels 
was  re-written  seven  times,  simply  as  an 
exercise  in  putting  what  I  wished  to  say  in 
simple  and  compact  form ;  and  for  several 
years  I  published  nothing  that  had  not  been  re 
written  twice  or  thrice.  Latterly,  however,  I 
seldom  alter  a  line  or  even  a  word  of  my  first 
draft ;  but  that  is  more  from  indifference  than 
because  I  doubt  that  my  work  would  not 
benefit  from  revision.  I  have  a  good  deal  to  do 


A   GIFT   OK   AN   ART?  37 

and  I  do  ifc  rapidly.     The  other  day  I  wrote  a  Julian 

novel  of  70,000  words  in  less  than  three  weeks."  HJaw' 

thorne. 

HJALMAB  H.  BOYESEN,  my  next  contribu-  H.  H. 
tor,  the  Norwegian  poet  and  novelist,  is  an  Boyese 
author  whose  books  are  characterised  by 
literary  and  dramatic  qualities  of  a  high  order, 
and  have  a  considerable  sale  in  the  United 
States.  Mr.  Boyesen  is  one  of  the  professors 
at  Columbia  College,  New  York.  "I  am  not 
conscious,"  he  says,  "  of  having  had  any 
special  training  fitting  me  for  my  life-work  as 
an  author.  In  my  eleventh  year  I  became 
possessed  with  a  desire  to  write,  although  the 
atmosphere  in  which  I  lived  was  anything  but 
literary.  It  must  have  been  an  inherited 
impulse,  possibly  a  case  of  atavism ;  and 
though  it  was  discouraged  by  my  grandfather, 
in  whose  house  I  was  brought  up,  I  took  so 
much  pleasure  in  the  exercise  of  the  talent 
which  I  was  convinced  that  I  possessed  that 
no  persuasion  could  induce  me  to  give  it  up. 
My  absorption  in  imaginary  scenes  and 
characters  drew  me  away  from  my  lessons  and 
brought  me  no  end  of  trouble  ;  but  I  could 
no  more  help  returning  to  this  wonder- 


38  GOOD  WHITING: 

H.  H.  land  of  forbidden  pleasure  than  I  could  prevent 
Boyesen.  fche  exercise  of  any  other  natural  function. 
There  was,  however,  another  side  to  my  life, 
which,  though  it  may  seem  irreconcilable  with 
a  literary  bent  of  mind,  really  was  an  education 
for  my  future  activity.  I  cannot  give  you  any 
adequate  idea  of  this  in  a  letter,  but  if  you  will 
read  a  very  good  account  of  my  boyhood  in 
W.  H.  Rideing's  '  Boyhood  of  American 
Authors,'  you  will  see  what  I  mean.  My  out- 
of-door  life  in  the  woods  and  on  the  fjords  of 
Norway  had  more  to  do  with  fashioning  my 
style,  such  as  it  is,  than  any  other  influence. 
I  learned  at  an  early  age  to  keep  my  senses 
wide  awake;  and  I  soon  learned  to  use  for 
literary  purposes  the  impressions  which  I  un 
consciously  absorbed  during  my  hunting  and 
fishing  expeditions. 

"  I  think  I  was  about  fourteen  years  old 
when,  after  having  worn  out  several  tutors,  I 
was  sent  to  a  Latin  school  in  Germany.  The 
instruction  I  received  there  was  of  a  sterile  and 
unsatisfactory  kind,  and  I  am  unable  to  see 
that  my  literary  instinct  was  in  any  way 
guided  or  fostered  by  my  grammatical  sufferings 
and  futile  struggles  with  Making  and  Curtius. 


A   GIFT   OR   AN  ART?  39 

I  fear  I  was  regarded  as  rather  a  stupid  boy,  ff.  If. 
because  I  rebelled  against  this  discipline  and  &&*** 
never    exerted  myself  to   excel.     But  I  pre 
sently   began    to  explore  the   poets,  Danish, 
German,  English,  on  my  own   account,  and 
derived  from  the  reading  of  them  an  indescrib 
able  delight.     It  is  a  curious  fact  that  a  word 
in  a  foreign  language,  when  felicitously  used, 
often  impresses  us  more  than  the  correspond 
ing  word  in  our  mother  tongue.     The  latter 
may  have  its  beauty  spoiled  by  too  much  use  ; 
while  the  foreign  word  sometimes  presents  the 
idea  in  all  its  freshness   and  vigour.     At  all 
events,  some  such  experience  was  mine  when  I 
first  began  to  read  Shakespeare,  Keats,  Shelley, 
and   Tennyson.     They  enriched  my   vocabu 
lary,  though  I  am  not  aware  that  they  in  any 
way  fashioned  my  style.     My  first  book,  which 
was  written  when  I  was  twenty-two  years  old, 
*  Gunnar,  a  Tale  of  Norse  Life,'  was  strongly 
influenced  by  Bjornson,  and  the  style  shows 
traces  everywhere  of  this  influence.     But  this 
instinct  of  imitation  asserts   itself  in   young 
writers  as  in  young  birds ;  before  they  find 
their  own  voices  they  imitate  the  voices   of 
other  singers. 
4 


40  GOOD  WRITING: 


H.  H.  "  My  conclusion  is  that  the  gift  of  style  is 

Boyesen.  largely  inherited  and  instiactive.  There  is  not 
a  gift  of  my  mental  equipment  which  has 
given  me  so  pure  a  pleasure  as  the  sense  of 
fragrance  and  colour  in  words  —  I  might  almost 
say  the  individuality  of  words.  It  is  very 
possible  that  like  any  other  gift  it  is  capable 
of  being  trained  and  rightly  directed.  But  in 
my  case  I  am  incapable  of  deciding  what 
influences  impelled  me  in  the  direction  which 
I  have  taken.  I  never  had  a  teacher  who 
wrote  a  good  style  himself,  or  knewr  what  style 
meant.  And  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics, 
some  of  which  are  models  of  a  clear  and 
\igorous  style,  are  usually  taught  in  a  crude  and 
pedantic  manner,  without  a  glimmering  of 
literary  sense  or  intelligence.  It  is  in  this 
respect  to-day,  as  it  was  in  my  childhood." 

For  my  own  part  I  do  not  of  course  question 
the  fact  of  .special  endowment  insisted  upon  or 
referred  to  by  the  authors  quoted  above.  The 
fact  is  patent.  "  No  manipulation  will  take 
the  place  of  the  fervour  of  high  feeling,  and 
the  faith  which  connects  a  writer  with  powers 
beyond  him,  and  yet  working  through  him," 


A   GIFT   OE  AN   ART?  41 

says  Professor  DOWDEN  ;  while,  in  the  same 
letter,  he  instances  a  fine  saying  by  Goethe,  "I 
can  only  gather  wood  and  lay  it  on  the  altar  ; 
the  fire  must  descend  from  heaven."  Still,  I 
cannot  but  feel  that  the  common  idea  about 
genius  and  natural  gift  is  most  pernicious.  It 
has  a  too  serious  tendency  to  set  up  in 
surmountable  barriers  to  the  masses  of  men, 
while  they  sit  down  in  the  conviction  that 
they  are  nothing  and  effort  is  useless.  Who 
knows  what  his  gifts  are  until  he  tests  them? 
I  am  distinctly  of  opinion  that  what  is  termed 
genius  is  largely  intensity  of  feeling,  emotion, 
thought,  activity;  that  true  greatness  springs 
from  culture,  and  that  high  endeavours  are 
the  secret  of  glad  success.  There  are  indeed 
wide  differences  between  men  ;  but  the  secret 
of  those  differences  lies  far  less  in  special  gift 
vouchsafed  to  one  and  withheld  from  another, 
than  in  the  differing  degree  in  which  men  use 
or  fail  to  use  those  elements  of  human  great 
ness  which  lie  within  the  grasp  of  all.  Genius 
is  energy  quite  as  much  as  insight ;  and  insight 
is  as  much  dependent  upon  tireless  activity  as 
upon  Divine  gift.  Power  of  attention,  forceful 
habits  of  industry,  wisdom  in  seeing  and 


42  GOOD  WETTING: 

promptitude  in  seizing  opportunity,  patient 
perseverance,  courage  and  hopefulness  under 
difficulty  and  disappointment — certain  am  I 
these  are  the  forces  that  win. 

I  can  give  no  hetter  expression  to  my  own 
thought  and  feeling  upon  this  question  than 
by  resuming  the  quotations  from  favourite 
authors,  permitting  them  to  speak  for  me. 

^f.y.  c.  "  I  think  any  one  may  attain  a  good  style  of 
Hare.  composition,"  writes  the  accomplished  AUGUS 
TUS  J.  C.  HABE,  whose  books  are  certainly 
peerless  in  the  class  of  literature  to  which  they 
belong.  "  It  chiefly  comes  from  the  ear — 
noticing  what  people  say,  their  turns  of 
expression,  &c.  But  nothing  can  be  written 
in  an  interesting  way  by  a  person  who  does  not 
feel  with  his  subject.  I  know  myself  that  by 
far  my  best  work  is  to  be  found  in  '  Days  near 
Rome  ' — the  chapters  on  Ostia,  Tivoli,  Orvieto, 
&c.  It  was  because  the  places  were  so  exceed 
ingly  dear  to  me  that  I  was  able  to  write  of 
them  so  as,  I  hope,  to  help  others  to  imagine 
them."  Speaking  of  his  own  experience,  Mr. 
Hare  says  :  "As  a  child  I  always  lived  with 
those  who  had  a  very  strict  idea  of  what  good 


A  GIFT  OE  AN   ART?  43 

English  should   be,   and    of    careful  diction ;  A.  /.  C. 
above  all,   of  careful  instruction    in    reading  Hare. 
aloud.     My  dear  old  grandmother  would  often 
make  me  repeat  the  single  line, '  The  quality  of 
mercy  is  not  strained/  a  hundred  times,  till  I 
could  give   exactly  the  right   inflection,   her 
delicate  ear  detecting  the  slightest  fault ;  and 
I  was  taught  never  to  write  anything  which 
did  not   '  read  well    aloud ' — this  being    the 
easiest  criterion  of  its  being  well  written.    As 
I  grew  older,  I  lived  much  with  my  cousin, 
Arthur   Stanley,   afterwards   Dean    of  West 
minster,  and  his  amusing  stories,  and  looking 
over,  or  collecting  and  looking  out  materials 
for  his  lectures  at  Oxford,  gave  me   a  great 
impulse,  just  after  my  own  college  course  was 
finished.     But  perhaps  what  was  more  useful 
still  was,  that  when  I  was  (unaccountably)  left 
for  two  and  a  half  years  with  a  private  tutor 
near  Bath,  who    utterly    and  systematically 
neglected  me,  I  united  with  one  of  my  com 
panions  in  writing  a  sort  of  magazine  (MS.)f 
which  was  read  aloud  every  fortnight  for  the 
benefit  and  amusement  of  the  rest,  and  the 
composition  of  which  was  a  real  advantage  in 
the  facility  it  made  habitual." 


44  GOOD  WRITING  ! 

Samuel  SAMUEL  SMILES,  the  genial  and  graceful 
Smiles.  author  of  "  Self  Help,"  and  a  long  list  of 
books  noted  for  their  solid  sense  and  robust 
sentiment,  containing  a  vast  storehouse  of 
incident  and  vivid  illustration,  and  written  in 
the  clear,  finished,  and  embellished  style  of 
which  he  is  so  excellent  a  master,  thinks  we 
may  go  too  far  in  speaking  of  style  in  composi 
tion  as  a  gift  and  not  an  art.  He  says,  "  The 
style  of  Kant,  Bentham,  and  Carlyle  are 
execrable ;  and  yet  the  writings  of  these  men 
will  live  much  longer  than  those  of  Tupper 
and  Hepworth  Dixon,  who  were  proud  of  their 
styles.  The  great  writer  will  live  by  his 
matter  and  not  by  his  manner.  The  curse  of 
pedantry  was  on  Johnson's  magniloquent 
style.  You  could  scarcely  feel  the  beatings  of 
his  heart  through  it.  His  companion,  Gold 
smith,  thought  nothing  of  his  style,  and  yet 
his  *  Vicar  of  Wakefield '  will  be  read  when 
Johnson's '  Easselas '  has  been  forgotten.  The 
Doctor  will  be  remembered  in  Boswell,  who 
had  no  style  at  all.  What  Sydney  Smith  has 
said  is  true :  '  Every  style  is  good  that  is  not 
tiresome.'  No  doubt  the  style  of  a  writer  is  a 
faithful  representation  of  his  mind ;  if  he 


A   GIFT   OB  AN  AET  ?  45 

would  write  in  a  clear  style,  he  must  Samuel 
see  and  think  clearly ;  if  he  would  write  Smiles. 
in  a  noble  style,  he  must  possess  a  noble 
soul.  Fontenelle  said  that  in  writing  he 
always  endeavoured  to  understand  himself. 
The  art  of  composition,  written  or  oral,  can 
only  be  acquired  by  practice.  No  man  is  the 
lord  of  anything  till  he  communicates  his 
thoughts  to  others.  At  the  same  time  the 
readiest  in  composition  are  those  who  write 
the  most.  Another  word :  Madame  de  Gas- 
parin  said,  *  The  reader  is  the  true  author. 
Every  book  is,  in  fact,  a  journey — a  journey  in 
which  we  find  little  more  than  we  ourselves 
bring  :  the  richly  provided  richly  require.'  " 

Of  himself  Dr.  Smiles  says,  "  I  never  studied 
the  art  of  composition.  I  read  a  multitude  of 
the  best  books,  and  from  that  I  suppose  I 
learnt  to  compose.  I  received,  when  young,  a 
fair  education  ;  then  I  went  to  a  university  and 
studied  medicine.  Then,  when  I  settled  in 
practice,  I  gave  lectures  on  chemistry, 
physiology,  &c.  This,  no  doubt,  must  have 
helped  me.  I  wrote  a  book  at  twenty-five,  but 
it  failed.  Perhaps  it  paid  its  expenses.  I 
gave  up  medicine  because  I  was  too  young  to 


46  GOOD  WEITING:     ' 

Samuel  be  employed  by  paying  people.  I  became  the 
Smiks.  editor  of  a  weekly  newspaper  for  six  or  seven 
years,  and  then  I  have  no  doubt  my  style  was 
formed,  because  I  wrote  from  four  to  five 
columns  weekly.  But  I  always  continued  to 
read  books  famous  for  their  style.  I  think 
that  the  example  of  Franklin  was  excellent,  to 
read  over  a  paper  in  The  Spectator  thoroughly, 
and  then  try  to  put  it  in  language  of  his  own. 
But  every  one  will  have  his  own  style  and  art 
of  composition.  I  think  the  words  of  the 
Bible  are  the  best  and  most  straightforward. 
Addison,  Hume,  and  Green  ('  History  of  Eng 
land  '),  Goldsmith  ('Vicar  of  Wakefield'),  and 
Bacon's  essays,  are  excellent.  Carlyle  has 
made  a  style  of  his  own,  mostly  formed  from 
the  German  of  Kichter.  Every  one  also  has 
his  favourite  poet.  Mine  is  Wordsworth." 

Cuthbert  CuTHBEET  BEDE  is  the  nom  de  guerre  under 
Bede.  which  the  Rev.  Edward  Bradley  publishes  his 
admirably  humorous  books.  The  author  of 
"  Verdant  Green  "  evidently  believes  that 
genius  is  nothing  but  common-place,  honest, 
hard  work.  "  As  early  as  I  can  remember," 
he  says,  "  I  used  to  scribble  prose  and  verse 


A  GIFT  OK    AN  ART?  47 

(or  prose  and  worse,  as  Douglas  Jerrold  said)  Cuthbert 
and  illustrate  my  MS.  by  my  own  pen-and-ink  Bede- 
designs.  I  was  an  omnivorous  reader,  and  I 
conclude  that  I  assimilated  what  seemed  best 
in  the  style  of  the  various  authors,  and  that  I 
profited  thereby  when  I  came  to  write  my 
own  compositions.  There  is  nothing  like 
constant  practice,  in  composition  as  in  other 
matters.  A  little  thought  soon  tells  you  what 
is  the  best  word  to  use  in  the  construction  of 
a  sentence,  and.  in  what  way  that  sentence 
should  be  composed.  I  have  written  so  very 
much,  at  high  pressure,  for  newspapers,  that  I 
had  no  time  to  prepare  a  rough  copy  of  my 
MS.  and  then  to  digest  and  re-cast  it ;  so  that 
I  had  to  discipline  myself  to  be  able  to  write 
straight  away,  without  preparatory  aids.  And 
I  may  here  advise  any  of  your  readers  who 
write  for  the  press  or  periodicals  to  take 
special  pains  over  the  mechanism  of  their  work 
— not  to  be  above  being  careful  in  dotting  their 
i's  and  crossing  their  t's,  in  forming  their 
letters  legibly,  avoiding  all  abbreviations,  care 
fully  placing  their  commas,  semi-colons,  and 
full  stops  in  the  proper  places,  and  sending  in 
a  clearly  written  manuscript.  It  will  stand  a 


48  GOOD   WEITING  ! 

Cuthbert  far  better  chance  of  being  looked  at  and 
Bede.  accepted  than  if  it  were  badly,  illegibly,  and 
slovenly  written  :  and,  if  accepted,  the  printer 
will  set  it  up  more  readily,  and  as  there  will 
be  fewer  mistakes  in  the  proof  to  be  corrected 
the  cost  of  production  will  be  lessened. 

"  When  I  was  a  boy,  at  the  Kidderminster 
Grammar  School,  I  was  a  member  of  the  then 
existent  '  Athenaeum,'  where  a  manuscript 
magazine  was  produced  monthly.  I  possess 
three  large  volumes,  profusely  illustrated  by 
my  own  designs,  and  containing  all  varieties  of 
prose  and  verse  articles,  by  myself,  contributed 
thereto  under  at  least  a  dozen  pseudonyms. 
One  of  these  stories,  penned  when  I  was  a  boy, 
I  afterwards  re-wrote,  and  it  was  published  by 
Bentley  in  his  half-crown  series  under  the  title 
of  '  Nearer  and  Dearer,'  starting  with  a  sale  of 
15,000  copies.  Other  productions  of  my  boy 
hood  have  also  seen  the  change  into  print. 
When  I  went  to  University  College,  Durham, 
I  made  my  first  appearance  (as  a  poet)  in 
'  Bentley's  Miscellany,'  a  half-crown  magazine 
in  which  Dickens  produced  his  '  Oliver  Twist.' 
I  signed  my  poems  '  Cuthbert  Bede,'  the  two 
patron  saints  of  Durham.  This  was  in  1846, 


A  GIFT  OR   AN  AET  ?  49 

when  I  was  nineteen  years  of  age.     Since  then    Cuthbert 
my  pen  has  been  constantly  practised  in  all  'Btfa 
kinds  of  work,  from  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to 
severe.     I  have  always  striven  to  be  as  clear 
and  lucid  as  possible,  and  to  convey  to   my 
readers  what  I  had  to  say  in  an  easy  and  plain 
way,  without  circumlocution  and  ambiguity. 
I  do  that  in  my  sermons  and  clerical  addresses 
quite  as  much  as  in  light  and  more  frivolous 
compositions. 

"  Composition  cannot  begin  too  early. 
When  my  sons  were  very  small  boys  I  used  to 
make  them  write  a  composition  every  week. 
They  chose  their  own  subjects,  and  treated 
them  in  their  own  fashion ;  and  they  read 
them  to  us  on  a  certain  night  in  the  week, 
which  was  called  our  '  Penny  Beading  Night.' 
It  was  very  great  fun,  and  did  them  much 
good.  Of  my  two  surviving  sons,  the  elder, 
Cuthbert,  is  on  the  staff  of  '  Fore's  Sporting 
Notes,'  a  2s.  quarterly,  both  as  an  author  and 
artist  ;  and  my  younger  son,  Harry,  was 
ordained  in  June  last*  to  be  one  of  the 
curates  to  Canon  Erskine  Clarke,  at  Batter- 
sea.  I  believe  that  their  early  efforts  in 

*  June,  1888. 


50  GOOD  WRITING  : 

Cuthbert    composition    have   been   of  use   to    them   in 

Bede-         after-life. 

"  Get  good  models  of  style,  such  as  Addison, 
Macaulay,  Thackeray,  and  many  others,  not 
forgetting  Cowper  the  poet  and  also  his 
delightful  letters  ;  study  the  best  authors,  and 
practise,  practise,  practise  !  Nothing  can  be 
well  done  without  infinite  pains  and  trouble 
over  minutiae.  For  my  own  part  I  don't 
believe  in  heaven-born  geniuses,  unless  they 
supplement  their  genius  with  the  healthy 
drudgery  of  daily  work,  Anthony  Trollope 
told  me  that  the  best  aid  to  genius  was  a  bit 
of  cobbler's  wax  to  fasten  yourself  to  your 
stool  until  you  had  accomplished  your  allotted 
task." 

Perhaps  I  cannot,  in  bringing  this  long 
chapter  to  a  close,  do  my  reader  a  better 
service  than  by  placing  before  him  the  opinion 
and  advice  of  an  author  whose  literary  culture 
and  full  mastery  of  the  art  of  writing,  whose 
clear  analysis  of  character  and  insight  into 
human  nature,  have  made  him  one  of  the 
most  successful  contemporary  novel-writers  of 
our  country. 


A   GIFT   OR  AN  AET  ?  51 

GEORGE  MACDONALD  is  not  simply  a  novelist,   George 

Mac- 
donald. 


but  also  a  poet  of  a  high  order,  and  a  preacher  Mac 


and  lecturer  whose  spoken  style  is  remarkable 
for  its  transparency,  its  energy,  its  elegance. 
"  If  a  man  has  anything  to  say,"  writes  Dr. 
Macdonald,  "  he  will  manage  to  say  it;  if  he 
has  nothing  to  communicate,  there  is  no  reason 
why  he  should  have  a  good  style,  any  more 
than  why  he  should  have  a  good  purse  without 
any  money,  or  a  good  scabbard  without  any 
sword.  For  my  part  I  always  scorned  the  very 
idea  of  forming  a  style.  Every  true  man  with 
anything  to  say  has  a  style  of  his  own,  which,  for 
its  development,  requires  only  common  sense. 
In  the  first  place,  he  must  see  that  he  has  said 
what  he  means ;  in  the  next,  that  he  has  not 
said  it  so  that  it  may  be  mistaken  for  what  he 
does  not  mean.  The  mere  moving  of  a  word 
to  another  place  may  help  to  prevent  such 
mistake.  Then  he  must  remove  what  is 
superfluous,  what  is  unnecessary  or  unhelpful 
to  the  understanding  of  his  meaning.  He 
must  remove  whatever  obscures  or  dulls  the 
meaning,  and  makes  it  necessary  to  search  for 
what  might  have  been  plainly  understood  at 
once.  All  this  implies  a  combination  of  writer 


52  GOOD  WEITING: 

and  critic,  not  often  found.  Whatever,  in  a 
word,  seems  to  the  writer  himself  objectionable, 
either  in  regard  to  sense  or  sound,  he  must 
rigorously  remove.  He  must  use  no  phrase 
because  it  sounds  fine,  and  no  imagined 
ornament  which  does  not  contribute  to  the 
sense  or  the  feeling  of  what  he  writes. 

"  But,  first  of  all,  he  ought  to  make  a  good 
acquaintance    with    grammar,   the    rarity    of 
which  possession  is  incredible  to  any  but  the 
man  who  is  precise  in  his  logical  use  of  words. 
There  are  very  few  men  who  can  be  depended 
on  for  writing  a  sentence  grammatically  per 
fect.     And,  alas  !  English  is  scarcely  taught  in 
England !     I    have   not   time  to   write   on   a 
subject  which  is  not  my  business,  but  a  means 
to  other  ends.     The  thing  is  summed  in  this  : 
A  good  style  is  one  that  not  merely  says,  but 
conveys  what  the  writer  means  ;  and  to  gain  it, 
a  man  must  continually  endeavour  to  convey 
what  he  means,  and  never  to  show  himself  off. 
The  mere  endeavour  to  gain  the  reputation  of 
a  good  writer  is  contemptible.     I  would  say  to 
any  one  whose  heart  burned  within  him,  write 
freely     what     you     feel,    and     then     correct 
rigorously.     The    truth   must   give   you   your 


A  GIFT  OR  AN  ART?  53 

material  and  utterance;  and  then   you  must    George 
get  rid  of  the  faults  that  would  interfere  with  Mac- 
the  entrance  of  your  utterance  into  the  minds  donafd' 
of  those  who  may  read.     The  effort  after  style 
ought  to  be  but  a  removing  of  faults.     Say, 
and  then  say  right." 


METHODS:    CONSCIOUS  AND 
UNCONSCIOUS. 


METHODS:     CONSCIOUS    AND 
UNCONSCIOUS. 

MANY  of  our  best  authors  .have  attained 
their  present  power  and  influence 
through  experiences,  or  by  modes  of  culture, 
that  can  scarcely  be  described  in  words. 
There  is  an  unconscious  as  well  as  a  con 
scious  training.  Education,  in  the  highest 
sense  and  for  the  highest  services  of  the  world, 
is  not  a  matter  of  schools  and  teachers,  text 
books  and  tasks.  The  teacher  cannot  make 
the  scholar ;  because  the  largest  part  of  a 
man's  culture  is  in  the  discipline  of  himself,  in 
the  atmosphere  of  thought  and  feeling  by  which 
he  surrounds  his  soul.  But  while  our  great 
writers  can  give  so  little  information  as  to  how 
they  came  by  their  present  remarkable  facility 
in  the  art  of  putting  noble  thought  into  noble 
speech,  they  are  practically  unanimous  in 
bearing  testimony  to  the  fact,  that  whatever 
they  are,  or  whatever  they  have  been  enabled 


58  METHODS ! 

to  accomplish,  they  owe  to  long  years  of 
earnest  and  persevering  labour.  They  have 
never  learned  without  study  ;  they  have  never 
received  knowledge  as  the  mind  receives 
dreams ;  they  have  never  given  to  the  world  a 
helpful  and  inspiring  book  that  has  not  been 
the  outcome  of  serious  thought,  of  laborious 
research,  and  of  painstaking  effort.  It  is  the 
unity  in  men  of  desire,  purpose,  industry,  that 
gives  them  mastery  in  the  world. 

Robert  ROBERT  BROWNING  must  be  permitted  in 
Brown-  this  chapter  to  speak  to  us  first.  Does  he  not 
stand  among  all  living,  English-speaking  poets 
the  greatest  creative  artist  ?  Happily  to-day 
the  study  of  his  writings  is  neither  a  craze  nor 
a  fashion,  it  is  the  homage  of  human  nature  to 
a  prophet  and  a  seer.  Impressed  with  the 
nobility  and  greatness  of  the  poet's  conceptions 
of  life  and  of  men,  people  are  awaking  to  the 
fact  that  Browning  has  a  definite  message  of 
faith  and  hope  to  this  age.  Referring  to  his 
own  experience  as  an  author,  he  writes,  "  All  I 
can  say  is  this  much,  and  very  little,  that,  by 
the  indulgence  of  my  father  and  mother,  I  was 
allowed  to  live  my  own  life  and  choose  my 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  59 

own  course  in  it ;  which  having  been  the  same  Robert 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  necessitated  a  Brown- 

?&£• 

permission  to  read  nearly  all  sorts  of  books  in 
a  well-stocked  but  very  miscellaneous  library. 
I  had  no  other  direction  than  my  parents'  taste 
for  whatever  was  highest  and  best  in  literature; 
but  I  found  out  for  myself  many  forgotten 
fields  which  proved  the  richest  of  pastures ; 
and,  so  far  as  a  preference  of  a  particular 
'  style  '  is  concerned,  I  believe  mine  was  just 
the  same  at  first  as  at  last.  I  cannot  name 
any  one  author  who  exclusively  influenced  me 
in  that  respect — as  to  the  fittest  expression  of 
thought — but  thought  itself  had  many  impul 
sions  from  very  various  sources,  a  matter  not 
to  your  present  purpose.  I  repeat  this  is  very 
little  to  say,  but  all  in  my  power,  and  it  is 
heartily  at  your  service,  if  not  as  of  any  value, 
at  least  as  a  proof  that  I  gratefully  feel  your 
kindness." 

WILLIAM  MORRIS  is  perhaps  far  more  widely    William 
known  as  one  of  the  most  earnest  and  cultured  Morris. 
leaders  of  Socialism  than  as  one  of  the  most 
exquisite    of    our  living  poets.      Indeed,   his 
books  have  all  too  limited  a  circle  of  readers ; 


60  METHODS : 

William    their    intrinsic    beauty    and  worth   ought  to 
Morns,     secure  them  a  place  in  the  home  of  every 
cultured  man.     His  "  Earthly  Paradise,"  his 
"  Jason,"  and  other  noble  poems  are  delightful 
for  their  elegance  and  smoothness  of  diction, 
the  purity  of  their  English,  and  the  musical- 
ness  of  their  metre.     "  I  can't  say  that  I  ever 
had   any   system,"   he  writes.     "As  a  young 
child  I  was  a  greedy  reader  of  every  book  I 
could  come  across.     I  am  not  town-bred,  and 
was  happy  enough  to  spend  the  greater  part 
of  my  life  in  the  open  air  as  a  boy — Epping 
Forest  at  home ;   the    Marlborough   country 
side  (one  of  the  most  interesting  in  England) 
at  school.      I  was  at  Oxford  before  it  was  so 
much   spoiled  as   it   has   been    since  by   the 
sordid  blackguards  of  '  Dons  '  who  pretend  to 
educate  young  people  there.     I  had  the  sense 
to  practically  refuse  to  learn  anything  I  didn't 
like,  and  also,  practically,  nobody  attempted 
to  teach  me  anything.     In  short  I  had  leisure, 
pleasure,  good-health,  and  was  the  son  of  a 
well-to-do  man.     These  were  my  advantages. 
My  disadvantages   were   in  myself,    and   not 
around  me,   I   think.      I   fear  'tis  little  use 
putting  such  an  example  before  your  young 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  61 

men,  who  probably  will  have  to  lay  their  William 
noses  to  the  grindstone  at  a  very  early  stage  Morns. 
of  their  career.  If  I  may  venture  to  advise 
you  as  to  what  to  advise  them,  it  would  be 
that  you  should  warn  them  off  art  and  litera 
ture  as  professions,  as  bread-winning  work, 
most  emphatically.  If  J  were  advising  them, 
I  should  advise  them  to  learn  as  soon  as 
possible  the  sad  fact  that  they  are  slaves, 
whatever  their  position  may  be,  so  that  they 
might  turn  the  whole  of  their  energies 
towards  winning  freedom,  if  not  for  them 
selves,  yet  for  the  children  they  will  beget. 
Under  such  conditions  art  and  literature  are 
not  worth  consideration." 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  do  not  know  how  I  Alfred 
have  formed  my  style,"  says  ALFRED  AUSTIN,  Austin 
a  lyric  and  dramatic  poet  of  genuine  power. 
"It  seems  to  me  to  have  grown  and  altered 
with  myself.     Bat  I  did,  when  young,  read 
copiously  of  the  best  authors,  always  preferring 
those,  whether  in  a  dead  or  living  language, 
who  seemed  to  have  a  respect  for  form  and 
harmony.      I    was    never    satisfied  with  the 
separation  of  the  two.   The  greatest  writers  are 


62  METHODS : 

Alfred  often  not  the  best  teachers ;  but,  save  in  this 
Austin,  respect,  no  rule  can  be  laid  down.  Try  to 
think  clearly,  and  in  time  clearness  of  expres 
sion  ought  to  follow.  But  beyond  rudimen 
tary  rules  for  rudimentary  composition,  I 
doubt  if  instruction  can  be  given." 

Amelia  AMELIA  E.  BARR  is  an  American  author, 
E.Barr.  widely  known  and  read  in  England,  who  has 
sent  out  into  the  world  quite  a  long  list  of 
agreeable  and  artistic  tales.  All  her  writings 
are  marked  by  a  religious  spirit ;  but  they  have 
not  a  trace  of  bitterness,  sectarianism  or 
maudlin  sentiment.  They  are  as  strong  as 
they  are  sweet.  Their  composition  is  easy  and 
flowing,  pithy  and  sparkling  in  dialogue,  and 
decidedly  clever  in  descriptive  power.  "  I  was 
early  familiar  with  books,"  she  writes,  "far 
beyond  the  supposed  capacity  of  my  years. 
At  that  time  they  seemed  to  make  little 
impression  upon  me,  yet  I  believe  their  stately 
sentences  trained  my  ear  to  a  nice  sense  of 
harmonious  composition.  The  books  I  read 
aloud  were  chiefly  old  divines,  and  the  works 
of  Keble,  Newman,  Hall,  Henry,  &c.  The 
education  which  has,  however,  made  me  a 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  63 

writer  has  been  a  living  one.  I  have  not  only  Amelia 
read  much,  I  have  seen  much,  and  enjoyed  E.  Barr. 
much,  and,  above  all,  I  have  sorrowed  much. 
God  has  put  into  my  hands  every  cup  of  life, 
sweet  and  bitter,  and  the  bitter  has  often 
become  sweet,  and  the  sweet  bitter.  My  own 
firm  conviction  is  that  no  education  can  make 
a  writer.  The  heart  must  be  hot  behind  the 
pen.  Out  of  the  abundance  of  life  and  its 
manifold  experiences  comes  the  power  to  touch 
life.  Before  I  lifted  the  pen  I  had  been  half 
over  the  world.  I  had  been  a  happy  wife 
seventeen  years.  I  had  nursed  nine  sons  and 
daughters.  I  had  drunk  of  the  widow's  bitter 
cup.  I  had  buried  all  my  children  but  three. 
I  had  passed  through  a  great  war ;  been  on 
the  frontiers  of  civilised  life  in  Texas  for  ten 
years ;  as  the  Scotch  say,  '  I  had  seen 
humanity  in  a'  its  variorums.'  After  that  I 
had  fifteen  years'  apprenticeship  on  the  press 
of  New  York,  writing  editorials  upon  every 
conceivable  subject,  often  at  a  few  minutes' 
notice,  acquiring  in  this  way  rapid  thought 
and  rapid  expression.  Of  course,  in  the  pre 
sent  state  of  general  education,  there  are  few 
young  people  who  could  not  write  at  least  one 


64  METHODS  I 

Amelia      readable  book,   but   the   proof   of  genius   lies 

E.  Barr.    jn  continuity. 

"  I  have  no  methods  that  are  regular  enough 
to  describe.  My  style  is  the  gradual  growth 
of  years  of  literary  labour  (20  years),  and  I  may 
add  of  real  not  affected  feeling.  I  put  myself, 
my  experiences,  my  observations,  my  heart 
and  soul  into  my  work.  I  press  my  soul  upon 
the  white  paper.  The  writer  who  does  this 
may  have  any  style,  he  or  she  will  find  the 
hearts  of  their  readers.  You  will  see,  then,  that 
writing  a  book  involves,  not  a  waste,  but  a 
great  expenditure  of  vital  force.  Yet  I  can 
assure  you  I  have  written  the  last  lines  of  most 
of  my  stories  with  tears.  The  characters  of 
my  own  creation  had  become  dear  to  me.  I 
could  not  bear  to  bid  them  good-bye  and  send 
them  away  from  me  into  the  wide  world.  I 
suppose  I  shall  fall  somewhat  in  your  opinion 
when  I  tell  you  that  rules  of  composition  have 
so  little  to  do  with  my  work  that  I  do  not 
even  know  the  parts  of  speech,  and  grammar 
would  be  as  strange  as  Greek  to  me. 

"  I  write  early  in  the  day.  I  begin  work 
almost  as  soon  as  it  is  light  enough  for  me  to 
see.  I  work  until  noon.  Then  I  am  still 


CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  65 

Southern  enough  to  enjoy  a  siesta,  after  Amelia 
which  I  drive,  or  see  callers,  or  perhaps  do  E-  &***< 
two  or  three  hours'  copying.  I  use  the  type 
writer  in  all  finished  work — Remington's 
No.  2 — for  I  have  four  copies  to  make  of  each 
book,  one  for  my  American  publisher,  one  for 
Clarke  and  Co.,  of  London,  my  English 
publishers,  one  for  an  American  serial,  and  one 
for  an  English  serial.  I  live  as  close  as  I  can 
to  God,  and  as  far  away  from  the  world  as 
possible.  My  home  stands  on  a  spur  of  Storm 
King  Mountain ;  and  as  I  write  to  you  I  liffc 
my  eyes  and  see  the  Hudson  Eiver  for  forty 
miles  of  its  course,  and  an  enormous  outlook 
of  lovely  country  with  the  Catskills  Mountains 
bounding  my  view  sixty  miles  away.  I  have 
counted  already  twenty-six  different  kinds  of 
birds  on  my  place,  and  they  are  singing  and 
chattering  and  building  all  around  me.  Yet  I 
am  at  least  1,400  feet  above  the  river." 

General  LEW.  WALLACE,  the  author  of  that   General 
noble  book,  "  Ben  Hur  :  a  Story  of  the  Christ,"    WaUace. 
gives  in  a  few  words  an  epitome  of  a  romantic 
life.   "  If  there  is  excellence  in  my  composition, 
Bet  it  down,  first  of  all  things  and  last,  to  the 


66  METHODS  : 

General  fact  that  I  have  no  method.  Modes  of  expres- 
Wallace.  sion  in  writing,  like  modes  of  expression  in 
speech,  are  referable  purely  to  feeling,  not 
studied,  but  of  the  moment.  When  I  was  a 
boy  I  ran  wild  in  the  great  woods  of  my  native 
State.  I  hunted,  fished,  went  alone,  slept  with 
my  dog,  was  happy,  and  came  out  with  a 
constitution.  My  name  was  Idleness,  except 
that  I  read — every  moment  that  I  was  still  I 
was  reading.  Fifteen  years  my  father  paid  my 
tuition  bills  regularly,  but  I  did  not  go  to 
school.  He  started  me  in  college,  but  I  ran 
away,  and  was  expelled.  Teachers  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  me.  In  short,  my  educa" 
tion,  such  as  it  is,  is  due  to  my  father's  library. 
The  book  that  had  most  to  do  with  influencing 
me  was  '  Plutarch's  Lives ' ;  and  now,  at  the 
age  of  sixty,5*  when  my  will  grows  drowsy  and 
my  ambition  begins  to  halt,  I  take  to  that 
book,  and  am  well  at  once." 

E.  S.  "I  have  no  methods  in  literary  work,"  says 

Phelps.      ELIZABETH  STUAET  PHELPS,  the  gifted  author 

of  "Gates  Ajar."     "I  never  gave  any  special 

study  to  the  formation    of    style    in    youth, 

*  1887. 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  67 

beyond  that  which  comes   from   a   cultivated  E.  S. 
home  and  a  good  education.     My  father  and  Phelps. 
mother  were  both  literary  people  of  a  fine  order. 
My  mother  died  when  I  was  a  child,  but  my 
father  inspired  me  with  an  early  taste  for  good 
reading.     So  far  as  the  formation  of  my  own 
style  goes,  it  is  the  result  of  downright  hard 
work.     This,  and  the  experience  of  life,  have 
been  my  chief  teachers." 

"  I  cannot  say,"  writes  BRET  HAUTE,  who  Bret 
wields  a  magic  pen,  that  interests  and  delights  Harte* 
the  reader  from  first  to  last,  "  of  my  own 
knowledge,  how  I  formed  my  style.  If,  as 
M.  de  Buffon  believed,  '  the  style  is  the  man,' 
I  am,  of  course,  the  last  person  you  would 
apply  to  for  that  information.  It  may  assist 
you  to  know,  however,  that  I  was  very  young 
when  I  first  began  to  write  for  the  press  ;  and 
as  a  very  young  and  needy  editor,  I  learned  to 
contrive  the  composition  of  the  editorial  with 
the  setting  of  its  type  ;  and,  it  is  possible,  that 
to  save  my  fingers  mechanical  drudgery  some 
what  condensed  my  style.  This  was  in  a 
country  where  people  lived  by  observation 
rather  than  tradition,  and  the  routine  was  not 


G8 


METHODS 


Bret         without   a  certain  chastening  effect  on   both 
Ilarte.       writer  and  reader." 

Rhoda  BHODA  BROUGHTON,  the  author  of  many 
Broiigh  widely-read  novels,  confesses,  "  I  have  no 
method.  I  began  to  write  merely  from 
instinct,  feeling  the  wish  to  say  what  was  in 
my  head.  I  am  far  from  recommending  this 
mode  of  composition,  as  it  has  led  me  into 
much  slipshod  writing ;  but  it  never  occurred 
to  me  consciously  to  form  a  style.  The  words 
were  and  are  only  the  vehicles  for  my 
thoughts.  I  fear  I  can  be,  therefore,  of  no  use 
to  you,  unless  it  be  as  a  warning." 

John  JOHN  PAYNE,   translator  of   the  "  Arabian 

Payne.  Nights  "  for  the  Villon  Society,  the  author  of 
several  books  of  poetry  that  have  attained 
deserved  distinction  for  their  polish  of  style, 
and  their  beauty  and  refinement  of  thought, 
finds  it  difficult  to  give  any  statement  as  to  his 
own  method  of  literary  work,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  his  mode  of  original  production, 
both  in  verse  and  prose,  has  been  curiously 
inconsistent,  and  it  is,  indeed,  only  by  an 
a  posteriori  process  that  he  can  trace  any 


CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  09 

of  the  influences  that  affected  it.  "  My  verse  John 
in  particular,"  he  says,  "  has  never,  except 
in  a  very  few  isolated  instances,  heen 
written  in  cold  blood;  ideas  and  subjects 
have  lain  dormant  in  my  brain  for  months, 
and  even  years,  till  some  unexplained  influence 
has  played  tho  part  of  Vulcan's  hammer,  and 
loosed  the  imprisoned  Minerva,  ready  armed ; 
and  then  there  is  no  question  of  style  or 
method,  the  pen  can  hardly  move  fast  enough 
for  the  imprisoned  flood  of  verse.  The  poem 
is  committed  to  paper  as  in  a  dream,  and  I  am 
surprised  when  I  awake  to  find  what  I  have 
done.  I  cannot,  therefore,  tell  you  anything 
about  my  method  of  labour  as  regards  style, 
simply  because  labour  there  is  practically  none, 
correction  being  almost  always  only  a  mattei 
of  rectifying  the  mechanical  slips  of  the  pen 
consequent  upon  the  furious  haste  with  which 
the  poem  is  committed  to  paper.  I  know 
there  are  far  better  poets  than  myse'ii,  who 
build  up  their  verse  with  infinite  labour. 
Bossetti  was  one  of  the  kind.  This  I  could 
never  do,  but  must  wait  till  the  fit  took  me, 
whether  I  would  or  no.  In  the  matter  of 
original  prose  I  am  little  better  ;  such  studies 


70  METHODS : 

John  as  the  essays  upon  Villon  and  the  *  Arabian 
Payne.  Nights/  though  of  course  prepared  by  much 
research  and  special  reading,  were  written,  that 
is  to  say,  committed  to  paper,  well-nigh  as 
lyrically  as  my  verse,  that  is,  in  a  fit  of  pos 
session  almost  as  unconscious  of  labour  and 
of  preoccupation  as  to  style.  Any  inquiry, 
accordingly,  into  the  mechanism  of  my 
methods  of  production  can  hardly  be  compared 
to  anything  more  exact  than  an  attempt  to 
analyse  the  influences  which  have  brought 
about  the  flowering  of  a  primrose ;  but  by  the 
a  posteriori  process,  of  which  I  have  already 
spoken,  I  may,  perhaps,  be  able  to  give  a  few 
particulars  as  to  the  things  which  I  suppose, 
rather  than  know,  to  have  had  a  fertilising 
influence  upon  my  mind  in  the  matter  of  style. 
"  I  had  no  special  training  in  this  respect ; 
indeed,  I  may  say  the  contrary  was  the  case,  I 
having  been  engaged  in  business  from  the  age 
(fourteen)  of  leaving  school,  and  having  been 
brought  up  by  parents  bitterly  hostile  to 
literature.  Omnivorous  reading,  a  very  early 
delight  in  wrord-analysis,  which  made,  even  at 
nine  or  ten,  the  dictionary  as  pleasant  as  a 
novel  to  me,  and  an  instinctive  pleasure  in 


CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  71 

language-learning,  which  was  a  good  deal  j0hn 
checked  by  circumstances  till  about  nineteen  : 
to  these  things,  as  far  as  to  anything  beyond 
what  natural  gift  I  may  have,  I  attribute  what 
you  indulgently  describe  as  my  mastery  over 
the  English  tongue.  From  my  own  experience 
I  cannot  recommend  to  a  young  man  wishing 
to  form  for  himself  *  a  forcible  and  interesting 
style  of  expression '  (in  so  far,  that  is,  as  it  is 
possible  to  acquire  such  a  gift,  and  I  confess 
that,  for  my  own  part,  I  doubt  the  possibility 
of  its  acquisition,  though  I  know  it  can,  when 
existing  in  a  rudimentary  form,  be  cultivated 
and  developed,— -is  it  not  written,  in  very 
earnest  jest,  by  the  wisest  of  our  kind,  '  To  be 
a  well-favoured  man  is  the  gift  of  fortune,  but 
to  read  and  write  come  by  nature  '  ?)  a  better 
course  than  the  intimate  study  and  analysis 
of  and  translation  from  other  languages  than 
his  own.  This,  he  will  find,  will  not  only  en 
large  his  vocabulary  beyond  belief,  but  will 
familiarise  him  with  many  and  various  ways 
of  expressing  familiar  ideas  ;  and  this  gives  him 
command  of  the  most  urgent  requisites  of 
style — the  avoidance  of  repetition  and  the 
power  or  means  of  expressing  the  eternal 
6 


72  METHODS  : 

John  common-places  which  form  the  basis  of  litera- 
Payne.  ture  and  life  in  a  new,  and,  therefore,  a  striking 
manner.  It  is  only  of  late  years  that  I  have 
begun  to  see  clearly  the  influence  which  my 
early  instinctive  studies  of  language  and  word- 
form  have  had  upon  my  power  of  literary 
expression,  and  it  is  now  evident  to  me  that 
they  were  all  to  the  greater  glory,  as  far  as  I 
was  concerned,  of  our  beloved  and  most 
magnificent  English  tongue,  to  wit,  that  the 
final  cause  of  all  the  language-learning  and 
philological  training  I  have  gone  through,  has 
been  to  increase  my  knowledge  and  refine  my 
power  of  handling  my  own  language.  That 
this  should  be  the  case  I  am  well  content,  and 
I  could  wish  no  better  epitaph  upon  my  grave 
than  '  Lwguam  Anglicam  Amavit.' "  That  such 
facility  in  the  use  of  the  pen  can  only  be  the 
outcome  of  great  and  continuous  intellectual 
discipline  is  abundantly  evidenced  by  what 
Mr.  Payne  has  said  in  the  above  letter.  How 
serious  must  have  been  his  mental  culture  in 
early  life  may  be  inferred  from  a  fact  stated  in 
the  postscript  to  this  letter,  "  Dante's  whole 
work  I  translated  into  verse  before  I  was 
twenty,  and  I  feel  that  his  influence  teuded  to 


CONSCIOUS   AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  73 

make    me    seek    that    severity    of  chastened  j0jm 
expression  which  is  necessary  to  correct  over-  Payne. 
richness  of  style." 

Two  somewhat  uncommon  experiences  may 
be  of  interest,  one  by  an  English  novelist,  the 
other  by  an  American.  Both  authors  are  types 
of  the  same  school,  certainly  clever,  but  given 
to  a  realism  somewhat  carried  to  excess. 

GEORGE  MOOKE  writes  as  follows  :  "  It  is  of  George 
course  impossible  to  say  in  a  letter  what  I  Moore. 
have  said  in  a  volume — '  Confessions  of  a 
Young  Man  ' — and  I  am  writing  fifty  pages  for 
the  French  edition,  so  incomplete  does  the  book 
still  seem  to  me.  Yet  I  have  something  to  say 
which  you  may  be  able  to  make  use  of.  I  do 
not  believe  that  any  one  who  ever  succeeded  in 
writing  a  book  ever  experienced  the  same  diffi 
culties  in  composition  as  I  did.  When  I  was 
five-and-twenty  I  could  not  distinguish  between 
a  verb  and  a  noun,  and  until  a  few  years  ago  I 
could  not  punctuate  a  sentence.  This  suggests 
idiocy  ;  but  I  was  never  stupid,  although  I  could 
not  learn ;  I  simply  could  not  write  consecu 
tive  sentences.  For  many  years  I  had  to  pick 
out  and  strive  to  put  together  the  fragments 


74  METHODS  I 

George  of  sentences  with  which  I  covered  reams  of 
Moore.  paper.  My  father  thought  I  was  deficient  in 
intelligence  because  I  could  not  learn  to  spell.  I 
have  never  succeeded  in  learning  to  spell.  I  am 
entirely  opposed  to  education  as  it  is  at  present 
understood.  I  would  let  the  boy  learn  Latin 
who  wanted  to ;  I  would  allow  the  boy  who 
wanted  to  learn  French  to  learn  French.  Were 
I  a  schoolmaster  I  should  study  the  natural 
tastes  of  the  boys,  and  try  to  develop  them. 
An  educational  course  seems  to  me  to  be  folly. 
You  ask  if  I  gave  myself  any  special  training — 
I  answer,  None  whatever.  I  read  all  that  took 
my  fancy,  and  nothing  that  did  not  take  my 
fancy.  For  instance,  I  scarcely  know  anything 
of  Shakespeare,  and  I  know  his  contemporaries 
thoroughly.  I  cannot  tell  you  why  I  insisted 
on  reading  Fletcher  and  Marlowe,  unless  it 
was  to  oppose  those  who  endeavoured  to  lead 
me.  I  always  had  a  good  memory,  and  I 
remembered  all  odd  words  and  phrases.  I 
strove  to  use  them  afterwards,  and  I  imitated 
the  style  of  the  author  I  was  reading.  French 
literature  had  a  great  effect  upon  me,  and  I 
read  here  and  there  and  everywhere,  picking 
up  something  everywhere,  and  never  learning 


CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  75 

anything  thoroughly.     I  was  inclined  towards   George 
desultory   reading,   and   I   have  gratified  my  &***• 
inclinations   to   the  top   of  my   bent.      It   is 
impossible  to  give  any  one   any  idea  of  what 
were   my  difficulties    in    forming   sentences  ; 
but  I  had  something  to  say,  and  sought  for 
the  means  of  saying  it,  blindly,  instinctively.  I 
still  experience  great  difficulty  in  disentangling 
my  thoughts." 

The  American  novelist  referred  to  has  his 
home  in  one  of  the  distant  Western  States  of 
America.  E.  W.  HOWE  is  the  author  of  E.  W. 
several  weird  stories,  sombre  and  tragic  in 
tone,  that  have  given  him  a  reputation  "  as 
the  strongest  man  in  fiction  that  the  great 
West  has  produced."  "  I  have  had  no  literary 
training  at  all,"  he  says.  "  When  I  was  twelve 
years  old  I  became  an  apprentice  in  a  country 
newspaper  office,  and  have  been  steadily 
engaged  in  that  calling  ever  since,  becoming  an 
editor  and  publisher  when  I  was  sixteen  or 
seventeen  years  old.  The  paper  I  first  edited 
and  published  was  in  Golden,  Colorado,  a  small 
affair,  appearing  weekly.  I  have  been  a  pub 
lisher  and  editor  from  that  time.  I  am  now 


76  METHODS : 

E.  W.  thirty- three.*  I  regret  to  say  that  I  never  studied 
Howe.  a  grammar  in  my  life,  and  barely  passed  the 
multiplication  table  in  arithmetic.  The  only 
training  I  ever  had  was  in  trying  to  please  a 
small  constituency  as  editor.  I  suppose  every 
man  who  writes  at  all  has  an  ambition  to 
write  a  book ;  I  know  of  no  other  reason  why 
I  tried  it.  I  have  no  method.  If  I  ever  had,  I 
change  it  every  month.  Usually  I  note  down 
whatever  occurs  to  me  in  the  book  way  on  the 
backs  of  envelopes  I  find  in  my  pockets,  and 
these  notes  I  transfer  to  paper  at  home.  For 
months  at  the  time  I  write  only  for  the  news 
paper  which  I  edit.  At  other  times  I  write 
late  at  night  on  the  story  in  hand  for  several 
weeks  in  succession.  I  dislike  it,  because  I  do 
not  sleep  well  after  working  at  night ;  what 
ever  I  have  been  doing  keeps  running  in  my 
head.  I  have  no  literary  acquaintances, 
although  very  many  prominent  authors  have 
written  me.  I  have  read  but  little,  and  many 
of  the  famous  books  I  do  not  know.  I  have 
always  lived  in  the  extreme  West,  where  there 
are  no  literary  people,  and  no  literary  atmo 
sphere.  I  have  met  Mr.  Aldrich  and  Mr, 
Stedman  personally  ;  Mr.  Howells  and  Mr, 

*  1887. 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  77 

Clemens  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  but  I  have 
never  seen  them.  Living  in  England,  you 
cannot  imagine  how  desolate,  from  a  literary 
standpoint,  my  surroundings  have  always 
been.  Ever  since  I  can  remember  I  have 
been  so  busy  that  I  have  actually  had  no  time 
to  devote  to  anything  save  the  business  in 
which  I  am  engaged.  The  book  now  in  hand, 
which  is  to  be  known  as  *  A  Man  Story,'  has 
been  bothering  me  more  than  a  year.  I  believe 
I  could  write  it  all  in  three  months  if  I  were 
rid  of  my  newspaper  work.  I  dislike  to  work 
at  it,  because  I  always  imagine  I  could  do  so 
very  much  better  were  I  not  tired  out  before 
commencing.  I  have  only  read  one  author 
thoroughly — Dickens.  In  my  opinion,  he  was  the 
only  man  who  ever  lived  that  could  write  a  com 
plete  story  in  every  particular.  I  have  occasion 
ally  found  foolish  fault  with  other  writers,  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  his  '  Great  Expectations ' 
is  absolutely  without  a  flaw,  although  it  is 
not  considered  his  greatest  book.  A  citizen  of 
this  town  knew  him  personally.  I  have  great 
veneration  for  a  man  who  has  had  such  an 
honour.  More  than  anything  else,  I  should  like 
to  read  a  life  of  Dickens  written  by  himself." 


78  METHODS : 

M.O.W.      MARGARET  0.  W.  OLIPHANT    has  won  an 
Oliphant  envjabie  reputation  in  the  world  of  letters  as  a 
judicious  biographer,  a  charming  novelist,  and 
a  general  writer  of  strong  individuality.     It  is 
not  easy  to  say  wherein  consists  the  unmistak 
able  touch  of   genius    in  her  work,  but  it  is 
undoubtedly  there.    She  always  seems  to  strike 
the  right  vein,   and  to  use  the  right  words. 
Her  composition  is  at  all  times  vigorous,  and 
never  obscure.     "  I  have  nothing  to  tell  you 
that  can  be  of  any  use,"  she  says.     "  I  began 
to  write  at  a  very  early  age,  and  without  either 
preparation  or,  indeed,  consciousness  that  my 
writing  would  ever  come  to  anything,  and  got 
into  print,  a  little  to  my  own   astonishment 
and  rather  to  the  amusement  of  my  family, 
who  had  treated  my  scribbling  as  if  it  had  been 
the  fancy  work  which  was  then  supposed  to  be 
a    girl's    natural    occupation,    before    I    was 
twenty-one.     I  fear  that  a  literary  beginning 
so   accidental   and  unprepared  would  not  be 
at   all    edifying    to   your  readers.     The   only 
thing    I   can    say    for    myself  is,   that    from 
my  earliest  days   I  read  everything  I   could 
lay  my  hands  on,  which,  I  think,  is  not  a  bad 
training." 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCT(J!q- 

CHARLOTTE    MARY  YONGE,  the  author  of  c  M. 
'  The  Heir  of  Kedclyffe,"  a  prolific  writer  of    Yonge. 
history,  biography,  and  romance,  says  of  her 
self:    "My   training   was  chiefly  unconscious. 
My  father  had  the  greatest  dislike  to  slip-slop 
language  and  bad  grammar,  in  conversation  or 
writing,    and  always  corrected  it.      When  I 
began  to  write  for  publication,  he  picked  every 
sentence  to  pieces,  and  turned  it  about,  so  that 
the  story  in  hand  lost  all  spirit,   and  I  could 
not   go  on  with  it  at   the   time ;  but   after  I 
gained  more  facility  I  returned  to  it,  and  the 
corrections  had  been  a  great  education.     I  do 
not  think  he  cared  for  style  as  much  as  for 
good  grammar  ;  and  if  that  is  really  observed, 
style  makes  itself  individual.     The   '  Heir   of 
Redelyffe  '  was  the  last  book  of  mine  that  had 
his  revision.     Since  that  I  have  observed  and 
learnt,  by  my  own  mistakes  and  criticisms  of 
them,  i.e.,  such  things  as  that  pronouns  must 
start  from  a  nominative  antecedent,  and  that 
two  pronouns  of  the  same  gender,  applying  to 
different  persons  in  the  same  sentence,  only 
make   confusion.      Also   that   every   sentence 
must   have    a    verb,    &c.     Of   course,    every 
student  knows  this,  but  young  ladies  do  nofc." 


78  METHODS : 

Vernon  Miss  PAGET,  who  writes  under  the  nom  de 
^e'  guerre  of  VERNON  LEE,  confesses  to  having 
but  few  theories  about  style,  though  she  has 
always  wished,  but  in  vain,  to  elicit  the  literary 
experiences  of  others.  She  says,  "  I  fancy 
that  the  modes  of  work  and  the  modes  of 
training  are  very  various ;  as  to  the  latter, 
I  imagine  English  writers  consider  them  as 
unnecessary  in  most  cases.  The  great  object 
of  a  writer,  it  sterns  to  me,  should  be  to 
attain  to  such  perfection  of  mechanism  as  to 
express  all  his  ideas  at  once,  without  hesita 
tion,  and  with  the  smallest  possible  need  of 
correction.  This  is  what  we  ask  of  a  pianist, 
a  singer,  a  painter.  Pray  understand  that  I 
refer  to  the  actual  writing,  to  the  construction 
of  sentences  and  paragraphs,  not  to  composi 
tion  in  the  sense  of  co-ordinating  a  book,  or 
even  a  chapter.  That  must  necessarily,  I 
think,  demand  much  planning,  trying  and 
altering.  To  attain  such  mastery  over  the 
mere  words  of  sentences,  I  should  recommend 
the  young  writer  to  write  incessantly,  on  every 
subject,  without  any  view  to  publication.  Any 
thought,  impression,  or  image,  anything  that 
can  be  written,  should  be  written,  and 


CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.      81 

written  as  rapidly  and  unhesitatingly  as  yernon 
possible.  The  development  of  a  critical  Lee. 
sense,  necessary  to  check  the  superabun 
dance  due  to  this  practice,  is  a  separate 
matter.  I  conceive  that  a  diligent  study 
of  our  eighteenth-century  writers  would  be  a 
most  useful  negative  practice.  Their  grammar 
is  often  dubious,  but  their  construction  is 
usually  uncommonly  clear,  owing  to  their  being 
satisfied  to  express  but  little  ;  and  although 
their  style  is,  I  think,  quite  inadequate  to  our 
more  complex,  modern  requirements,  it  is,  for 
that  very  reason,  a  most  useful  corrective  to 
the  tendencies  which  modern  requirements  are 
likely  to  produce.  I  am  conscious  of  having 
derived  much  profit  from  an  eighteenth-century 
treatise— Blair's  *  Khetoric.'  " 

GEOKGE  GISSING  is  one  of  the  later  recruits  George 
to  the  ranks  of  our  romancists,  an  author  of  &*****& 
considerable  promise,  whose  keenness  of  in 
sight,  mental  acuteness,   and  literary  instinct 
lead  us  to  expect  good  results  from  his  facile 
pen.     "  Only  last  night,"  he  writes,  "  as  I  was 
gossiping  with  a  friend,  we  fell,  oddly  enough, 
on  this  very  subject,  and  probed  each  other's 


82  METHODS : 

George      memories  in  the  endeavour  to  find  out  when, 
Gissmg.     an(j  under  what   circumstances,  we   had  first 
become    conscious — conscious    in    the    strict 
sense  of  the  word — of  style  in  literature.     Our 
results  were  of  the  vaguest,  and  I  much  fear 
that  anything  I  can  now  write  will  be  little 
more  to  the   purpose.     For  my  own  part,  I 
believe  that  many  men  who  write  good,  ner 
vous,    lucid    English     have     never     troubled 
themselves  to  inquire  by   what   process   they 
attained  this  end.     A  sound  education,  active 
brains,  and  the  taste  for  what  is  sterling  in 
literature — these  things  have  sufficed  to  make 
them  in  practice  good   turners-  of  sentences, 
and  the  bent   of    their  minds  has  never  led 
them  to  predetermined  study  of  models.     My 
own    attempts    at   authorship,   on   the   other 
hand,  have  had  the  result  of  making  me  con 
stantly   search,   compare,   and    strive  in    the 
matter  of  style  :    I  would  that  the  issue  were 
more  correspondent  with  the  thought  I  have 
given  to  such  things.     When  I  first  began  to 
write  for   the    press  I   understood  myself  as 
little  as  I  did  the  great  writers  to  whom  my 
eyes  were  directed.     A  young  poet,  we  know, 
is  wont  to  model  his  verse,  often  quite  con- 


CONSCIOUS   AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  83 

sciously,  on  that  of  the  man  he  admires  ;  a  George 
young  writer  of  prose  may  imitate  in  subject,  Gissing. 
in  cast  of  thought,  but  is  very  seldom  capable 
of  producing  an  echo  of  another's  periods.  I 
believe  I  liked  what  was  good  (of  course  I 
speak  of  form  merely),  but  I  yet  lacked  that 
experience  in  composition  without  which,  in 
my  belief,  it  is  as  difficult  to  form  judgments 
regarding  literary  style  as  it  is  for  a  layman 
to  criticise  a  painter's  technique.  And  here, 
indeed,  is  the  one  little  bit  of  solid  information 
my  letter  will  supply.  To  my  teachers  at 
school  and  college  I  owe  the  habit  of  study  ; 
the  results  of  study,  as  far  as  they  concern  this 
matter  of  which  we  are  speaking,  assuredly  I 
owe  to  no  one  but  myself. 

"  I  believe  there  are  persons  extant  who 
undertake  to  instruct  young  men  in  the  art  of 
journalistic  composition.  Without  irony,  it 
would  interest  me  much  to  be  present  at  such 
a  lesson.  Does  the  teacher  select  a  leading 
article  from,  say,  The  Daily  Telegraph,  and 
begin  :  '  Come  now,  let  us  note  the  artifices  of 
style  whereby  this  writer  recommends  himself 
to  the  attention  of  the  public  '  ?  Well,  if  a 
man  of  ripe  intelligence  could  have  taken  ma 


84  METHODS  : 

George  at  the  age  of  twenty,  and  have  read  with  me 
Gissing.  suitable  portions  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  of 
Jeremy  Taylor,  of  Milton's  prose,  of  Steele, 
De  Quincey,  Landor,  Euskin — to  make  a 
rough  list  of  names — that,  I  think,  would  have 
been  a  special  training  valuable  beyond  expres 
sion.  Nothing  of  the  kind  fell  to  my  lot  ;  it 
can  fall  to  the  lot  of  very  few.  Such  teaching 
would  be  the  sequel  to  that  youthful  essay- 
writing  which  trains  one  in  grammatical 
accuracy.  Lacking  this  aid,  I  have,  to  repeat 
myself,  little  by  little,  worked  towards  an 
appreciation  of  style  in  others,  and  to  some 
measure  of  self-criticism.  And  this  work  I 
trust  will  continue  throughout  my  life  ;  I  feel 
myself  as  yet  but  an  apprentice. 

"  You  know,  of  course,  the  little  volume  of 
selections  from  Landor,  in  the  '  Golden 
Treasury '  series.  Could  a  young  man  whose 
thoughts  are  running  on  style  do  better  than 
wear  the  book  out  with  carrying  it  in  his  side 
pocket,  that  he  might  ponder  its  exquisite 
passages  hour  by  hour?  Or  again,  there  will 
be  few  of  your  readers  who  are  not  familiar 
with  '  Shirley '  and  *  Villette  ' ;  but  have 
they  yet  learnt  to  read  Charlotte  Bronte  ? 


CONSCIOUS   AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  85 

There  are  pages  in  both  these  works  of  George 
hers  which,  with  respect  to  literary  art,  will  Gtsstng. 
repay  the  most  careful  study ;  she  is  admirable 
in  the  selection  of  words  and  the  linking  of 
sentences.  She  did  not  know  Latin,  yet  I 
recall  many  instances  in  which  the  wonderful 
choice  of  an  uncommon  word  proved  that  she 
felt  its  meaning  in  the  tongue  from  which  it 
is  derived.  One  is  in  her  description  of 
'Vashti.'  *  Koyally,  imperially,  incedingly 
upborne,'  she  says.  There  is  genius  in  that 
transference  of  Incedo  regina  deum." 

MARK  TWAIN  is  the  nom  de  guerre  of  Samuel  Mark 
Langhorne  Clemens,  the  great  American  Twain. 
humourist,  whose  books  are  the  delight  of  all 
English-speaking  people.  "  Your  inquiry  has 
set  me  thinking,"  he  writes;  "  but,  so  far, 
my  thought  fails  to  materialise.  I  mean  that, 
upon  consideration,  I  am  not  sure  that  I.  have 
methods  in  composition.  I  do  suppose  I  have 
— I  suppose  I  must  have — but  they  somehow 
refuse  to  take  shape  in  my  mind ;  their 
details  refuse  to  separate  and  submit  to  classi 
fication  and  description ;  they  remain  a 
jumble — visible,  like  the  fragments  of  glass 


86  METHODS : 

Mark  when  you  look  in  at  the  wrong  end  of  a 
Twain,  kaleidoscope,  but  still  a  jumble.  If  I  could 
turn  the  whole  thing  around  and  look  in  at 
the  other  end,  why  then  the  figures  would 
flash  into  form  out  of  the  chaos,  and  I 
shouldn't  have  any  more  trouble.  But  my 
head  isn't  right  for  that  to-day,  apparently. 
It  might  have  been,  maybe,  if  I  had  slept 
last  night. 

"  However,  let  us  try  guessing.  Let  us  guess 
that  whenever  we  read  a  sentence  and  like  it, 
we  unconsciously  store  it  away  in  our  model- 
chamber  ;  and  it  goes  with  the  myriad  of  its 
fellows  to  the  building,  brick  by  brick,  of  the 
eventual  edifice  which  we  call  our  style.  And 
let  us  guess  that  whenever  we  run  across 
other  forms — bricks — whose  colour,  or  some 
other  defect,  offends  us,  we  unconsciously 
reject  these,  and  so  one  never  finds  them  in 
our  edifice.  If  I  have  subjected  myself  to  any 
training  processes,  and  no  doubt  I  have,  it 
must  have  been  in  this  unconscious  or  half- 
conscious  fashion.  I  think  it  unlikely  that 
deliberate  and  consciously  methodical  training 
is  usual  with  the  craft.  I  think  it  likely  that 
the  training  most  in  use  is  of  this  unconscious 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  87 

sort,  arid  is  guided  and  governed  and  made  Mark 
by-and-by  unconsciously  systematic,  by  an  Twain. 
automatically-working  taste — a  taste  which 
selects  and  rejects  without*  asking  you  for 
any  help,  and  patiently  and  steadily  improves 
itself  without  troubling  you  to  approve  or 
applaud.  Yes,  and  likely  enough  when  the 
structure  is  at  last  pretty  well  up,  and  attracts 
attention,  you  feel  complimented,  whereas  you 
didn't  build  it,  and  didn't  even  consciously 
superintend.  Yes ;  one  notices,  for  instance, 
that  long,  involved  sentences  confuse  hini,  and 
that  he  is  obliged  to  re-read  them  to  get  the 
sense.  Unconsciously,  then,  he  rejects  that 
brick.  Unconsciously  he  accustoms  himself 
to  writing  short  sentences  as  a  rule.  At  times 
he  may  indulge  himself  with  a  long  one,  but 
he  will  make  sure  that  there  are  no  folds  in 
it,  no  vaguenesses,  no  parenthetical  interrup 
tions  of  its  view  as  a  whole  ;  when  he  is  done 
with  it,  it  won't  be  a  sea-serpent,  with  half  of 
its  arches  under  the  water,  it  will  be  a  torch 
light  procession. 

"  Well,  also  he  will  notice  in  the  course  of 
time,  as  his  reading  goes  on,  that  the  difference 
between  the  almost  right  word  and  the  right 

r 


88  METHODS ! 

Mark  word  is  really  a  large  matter — 'tis  the  differ- 
Twain,  ence  between  the  lightning-bug  arid  the  light 
ning.  After  that,  of  course,  that  exceedingly 
important  brick,  the  exact  word — however,  this 
is  running  into  an  essay,  and  I  beg  pardon. 
So  I  seem  to  have  arrived  at  this  :  doubtless  I 
have  methods,  but  they  begot  themselves,  in 
which  case  I  am  only  their  proprietor,  not 
their  father." 

Not  all  authors  are  without  conscious 
methods,  either  in  finding  their  avocation, 
or  in  securing  the  power  of  forceful  English 
composition.  With  some  the  effort  is  clearly 
defined  and  very  intense.  The  maxim  of  the 
French  writer,  "  Put  your  heart  into  your 
business,"  has  been  with  them  the  secret  of 
success.  They  have  not  stinted  themselves ; 
they  have  not  given  half  their  force ;  they 
have  put  their  whole  heart  into  their  oppor 
tunity.  For,  after  all  that  may  be  said  by  men 
of  exceptional  ability  and  experience,  the  ordi 
nary  worker  finds  there  is  no  royal  road  to 
effective  power  in  the  literary  calling  any  more 
than  there  is  in  other  aspects  of  life.  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  fortune  smiles  only  upon  men  and 


CONSCIOUS   AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  89 

women  of  great  industry  and  sincere  earnest 
ness.  The  following  quotations  will  show  what 
may  be  done  by  patient  perseverance. 

WILKIE  COLLINS,  whose  death  has  left  a  sad  Wilkie 
blank  in  the  ranks  of  present-day  writers  of 
fiction,  was  an  author  of  special  power.  There 
is  moral  tonic  in  his  books,  stimulating  thought, 
fine  and  persuasive  appeals  to  the  imagination, 
as  well  as  marvellous  plot  and  weird  incident. 
His  strikingly  dramatic  stories  are  clothed  in 
language  as  simple  and  direct  as  it  is  strong 
and  beautiful.  The  uniform  fascinating  grace 
and  ease  of  his  diction  ceases  to  surprise  us 
when  we  read  with  what  minute  and  pains 
taking  care  it  is  produced.  He  says,  "  After 
some  slight  preliminary  attacks,  the  mania  for 
writing  laid  its  hold  on  me  definitely  when  I 
left  school.  While  I  was  in  training  for  a  com 
mercial  life,  and  afterwards  when  I  was  a 
student  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  I  suffered  under 
trade  and  suffered  under  law  with  a  resig 
nation  inspired  by  my  endless  enjoyment  in 
writing  poems,  plays,  and  stories— or,  to  ex 
press  myself  more  correctly,  by  the  pleasure 
that  I  felt  in  following  an  undisciplined 


90  METHODS : 

Wilkie  imagination  wherever  it  might  choose  to  lead 
Collins.  me>  j  produced,  it  is  needless  to  say,  vast 
quantities  of  nonsense,  with  an  occasional — a 
very  occasional — infusion  of  some  literary  pro 
mise  of  merit.  But  I  do  not  think  my  time  was 
entirely  wasted,  for  I  believe  I  was  insensibly 
preparing  myself  for  the  career  which  I  have 
since  followed. 

"  My  first  conscious  effort  to  write  good 
English  was  stirred  in  me  by  the  death  of 
my  father — the  famous  painter  of  the  coast 
scenery  and  cottage  life  of  England.  I  re 
solved  to  write  a  biography  of  him.  It  was 
the  best  tribute  that  I  could  pay  to  the 
memory  of  the  kindest  of  fathers.  '  The  Life 
of  William  Collins,  K.A.,'  was  my  first  pub 
lished  book.  From  that  time  to  this  my 
hardest  work  has  been  the  work  that  I  devote 
to  the  improvement  of  my  style.  I  can  claim 
no  merit  for  this.  When  I  first  saw  my 
writing  presented  to  me  in  a  printer's  proof,  I 
discovered  that  I  was  incapable  of  letting  a 
carelessly-constructed  sentence  escape  me 
without  an  effort  to  improve  it.  The  process 
by  which  my  style  of  writing  is  produced  may 
be  easily  described.  The  day's  work  having 


CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  91 

been  written,  with  such  corrections  as  occur  to  Wilkie 
me  at  the  time,  is  subject  to  a  first  revision  on  Collins. 
the  next  day,  and  is  then  handed  to  my 
copyist.  The  copyist's  manuscript  undergoes 
a  second  revision,  and  is  then  sent  to  the 
printer.  The  proof  passes  through  a  third 
process  of  correction,  and  is.  sent  back  to  have 
the  alterations  embodied  in  what  is  called  '  the 
revise.'  The  revise  is  carefully  looked  over  for 
the  fourth  time,  before  I  allow  it  to  go  to 
press,  and  to  preserve  what  I  have  written  to 
my  readers.  My  novels  are  published  serially 
in  the  first  instance.  When  they  are  reprinted 
in  book  form,  the  book-proofs  undergo  a  fifth 
and  last  revision.  Then,  at  length,  my  labour 
of  love  conies  to  an  end,  and  I  am  always 
sorry  for  it.  The  explanation  of  this  strange 
state  of  things  I  take  to  be,  that  honest  service 
to  art  is  always  rewarded  by  art," 

Mrs.  EICHMOND  KITCHIE,  nee  Annie  Thacke-  Mrs.  R. 
ray,  the  clever  daughter  of  William  Makepeace  Ritchie. 
Thackeray,  must  surely  be  counted  among  the 
very  first  of  our  lady  novelists.    She  is  a  refined 
and  graceful  author,  whose  tender  and  beauti 
ful  stories   are  delightfully  told — gems  set  in 


92  METHODS : 

Mrs.  R.  gold.  She  writes :  "  How  I  wish  I  could 
Ritchie,  answer  your  kind  letter  in  any  definite  way.  I 
was  always  fond  of  writing  stories,  but  when 
I  was  about  fifteen  my  father  told  me  I  had 
much  better  read  a  few  books  instead  of  scrib 
bling  so  much,  and  I  did  not  begin  to  write 
again  till  I  was  past  twenty.  He  used  to  tell 
us  that  the  great  thing  was  to  write  no 
sentence  without  a  meaning  to  it — that  was 
what  style  really  meant — and  also  to  avoid 
long  Latin  words  as  much  as  possible.  I 
remember  his  once  showing  me  a  page  of  '  The 
Newcomes/ altogether  rewritten,  with  simpler 
words  put  in  the  place  of  longer  ones.  Another 
old  friend,  long  after,  gave  me  a  useful  hint, 
which  was  to  read  akud  to  myself  any  passage 
of  which  I  was  doubtful — one  hears  an  awk 
ward  sentence.  Any  young  person  with 
something  to  say  ought  to  be  able  to  say  it,  I 
think ;  but  the  manner,  of  course,  depends 
upon  the  books  he  or  she  reads,  and  the  amount 
of  observation  and  feeling  brought  to  play 
upon  the  subject.  I  have  just  been  reading 
some  very  beautiful  passages  in  Buskin's 
'  Praeterita,'  and  he  in  turn  quotes  a  noble 
page  or  two  out  of  Sydney  Smith  as  a  mode) 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  93 

of  meaning  and  expression.  But  I  don't  know 
whether  in  my  youth  I  should  have  cared  as  I  Ritchie. 
do  now  for  these  beautiful  outbursts ;  and 
perhaps  the  young  ought  to  think  chiefly  of 
the  meaning  of  what  they  write,  and  leave  the 
old  to  try  and  elaborate  their  expressions." 

LOUISA  MOLES  WORTH  is  the  author  of  Louisa 
whom  Swinburne,  in  The  Nineteenth  Century,  &foles- 
affirms  that,  of  female  writers  since  the 
death  of  George  Eliot,  "  there  is  none  left 
whose  touch  is  so  exquisite  and  masterly, 
whose  love  is  so  thoroughly  according  to  know 
ledge,  and  whose  bright  and  sweet  invention  is 
so  fruitful,  so  truthful,  and  so  delightful." 
There  is  assuredly  a  grace  of  fancy,  a  tender 
ness  of  expression,  a  simplicity  of  style  in  her 
books,  which  invest  them  with  as  great  a 
charm  to  older  readers  as  to  those  on  whose 
behalf  they  were  written.  She  says, "  My  own 
experience  is,  that  one  cannot  begin  to  write 
too  young  if  one  wishes  to  write  with  ease 
and  individuality.  I  think  my  earliest  and 
best  training  was  by  translating,  both  from 
French  and  German.  I  also  remember  writing 
essays  on  given  subjects,  with  heads  marked 


94  METHODS : 

Louisa  out  for  me.  This  practice  is  of  value  to  a 
^wrth  yoiing  wrifcer>  as  tending  to  keep  the  mind  to 
the  point,  and  to  avoiding  discursiveness.  It 
is  a  great  help  to  read  aloud  whatever  one 
writes;  nothing  is  a  surer  test  of  style  than 
this,  and  even  in  one's  own  family,  or  among  a 
little  circle  of  friends,  one  may  gain  much  from 
the  friendly  criticism  thus  brought  out.  In 
some  ways  it  seems  to  me  that  the  old  saying 
of  '  one  man's  meat  being  another  man's 
poison/  is  true  as  regards  rules  of  composition. 
"  For  my  own  part  I  have  strictly  adhered 
to  the  rule  of  never  copying.  I  write  at  once 
as  I  intend  the  words  to  stand  ;  the  formation 
of  the  sentences  being  thus  the  work  of  the 
brain,  unassisted  by  the  sight  of  the  written 
words.  I  believe  that  this  leads  to  great  pre 
cision  of  thought,  and  I  believe,  too,  that  it 
makes  the  style  fresh  and  vigorous,  besides 
greatly  lessening  the  manual  labour.  In  writ 
ing  with  the  intention  of  copying,  one  is  apt  to 
think, '  Oh,  I  will  set  that  sentence  right  after 
wards,'  and  one's  first  time  of  writing  is  gener 
ally,  therefore,  slovenly.  Yet  I  have  friends  in 
the  first  rank  as  writers  of  English  who  do  not 
agree  with  me  in  this  theory.  Among  them  I 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  95 

may  mention  the  author  of  '  John   Halifax,'   Louisa 
whose  death  just  now  we  are  all  deploring.     I   Moles- 
remember  her  saying  to  me,  '  To  get  a  chapter 
perfect,  I  have  sometimes  written  it  over  four 
teen  times.*     Still  I  hold  to  my  opinion,  but  I 
think  the  habit  must  be  acquired  young.     In 
talking  to  young  people  about  the  art  of  com 
position,  I  think  it  should  be  clearly  pointed 
out  that  it  is  a  subject  of  interest  to  all.     It  is 
not  every  one    who    can  write  books  worth 
reading;    indeed,  I  think  it   would   be  most 
happy  for  the  world  if  very  many  fewer  were 
written !     But  it  is  of  consequence  for  every 
one    to    express   their    thoughts   clearly   and 
gracefully ;   and  beyond  this,  again,  to   think 
clearly  and  in  a  sense,  definitely,  to  get  rid  of 
all  unnecessary  fog  and  confusion  of  brain — and 
nothing  helps  this  more  than  the  training  one 
self  to  choosing  the  best  words  one  can  find. 
It  is  a  frequently  given  piece  of  advice,  '  not  to 
use  a  long  word  where  a  short  one  would  do/ 
but  it  may  be  acted  upon  too  much.     I  would 
rather  advise  young  writers  to  choose  the  word 
which  best  expresses  their  meaning,  be  it  long 
or  short.     Even  in  writing  for  children  I  do 
not  entirely  confine   myself  to   words  which 


96  METHODS  : 

Louisa      they  can  at  once  understand ;  by  the  help  of 

Moles-       foe  context,  and  a  little  exercise  of  their  own 
worth.  . 

brains,   children   soon    master  a   new  word's 

exact  meaning,  and  each  new  word  is  so  much 
gained  of  intellectual  treasure." 

Mrs.  L.  "  Any  success  my  books  may  merit,"  writes 
Parr.  ^faSt  LOUISA  PARR,  "is  in  a  great  measure 
due  to  the  observance  of  a  rule  which  I  would 
forcibly  impress  on  all  literary  aspirants,  to 
spare  no  pains,  to  give  of  your  best,  and  never 
to  rest  satisfied  until  you  are  certain  that  you 
could  do  nothing  better.  Good  painstaking 
work  irresistibly  attracts  thoughtful  readers, 
while  slip-shod,  careless  writing  only  appeals 
to  tastes  already  lowered,  and  debases  those 
whose  standards  might  have  been  raised  higher. 
To  expect  young  people  to  enjoy  the  books 
which  more  mature  tastes  regard  as  master 
pieces  of  fiction  is,  I  think,  a  mistake  we  elders 
often  fall  into.  I  remember  when  it  was  a 
penance  to  me  to  read  Jane  Austen,  and  I  have 
seen  those  who  thought  George  Eliot's  novels 
dull  grow  up  to  hang  on  every  word  she  wrote. 
Only  cultivate  the  taste  in  the  right  way,  and 
it  is  almost  certain  to  bring  forth  the  right 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  97 

fruit.  Thirty  years  ago  women  had  not  the  Mrs.  L. 
educational  advantages  they  now  have.  I  had 
no  special  training  in  composition,  but  before 
I  published  my  first  book  life  had  taught  me 
some  lessons  which  gave  me  an  insight  into 
human  nature  and  character." 

it 

Another  lady  novelist,  MARY  LINSKILL,  may  Alary 
be  quoted  with  interest.  "  In  my  own  case  I 
began  to  read  both  prose  and  poetry  with 
avidity  at  an  early  age.  Of  course,  I  need 
hardly  say  that  the  natural  beginning  of  all 
culture  is  learning,  by  reading,  what  others 
have  said  ;  and  at  the  risk  of  seeming  egotism, 
I  must  add  that  my  own  childish  efforts  to 
express  myself  were  made  in  rhyme,  poetry  it 
could  not  be  termed  by  any  stretch  of  courtesy. 
I  remember  having  an  amusing  idea  that  prose 
wras  a  much  too  difficult  and  ambitious  thing 
to  be  attempted  by  me.  When  about  twelve 
years  old,  I  began  to  practise  what  I  believe 
was  of  much  use  to  me,  though  I  did  not 
dream  of  its  use  then.  I  speak  of  the  habit  of 
copying  into  note-books  whatever  struck  me 
as  unusually  worthy.  But  I  was  always 
guided  by  something  in  the  thought.  Style 


98  METHODS : 

Mary  may  havo  attracted  me;  but  it  must  have 
LinskilL  been  unconsciously.  Naturally,  these  things, 
much  reading,  some  writing,  led  to  the  forma 
tion  of  a  style  of  my  own  at  a  very  early  age ; 
long  before  I  perceived  it  for  myself  it  was 
discerned  by  others ;  so  that  I  have  no  con 
scious  recollections  of  any  special  method  or 
system  of  training.  My  own  idea  is  that  if 
any  one  has  a  real  and  true  love  of  literature 
for  its  own  sake,  a  keen  appreciation  of  what 
is  best  in  the  mode  of  expression  will  follow 
inevitably.  I  would  recommend  the  student 
to  lay  to  heart  an  axiom  of  Sydney  Smith's, 
'  Genius  is  the  capacity  for  taking  pains.'  I 
have  read  that  Miss  Mitford  wrote  some  of  her 
stories  eleven  or  twelve  times  over;  and  an 
elderly  friend  told  me  that  Lord  Brougham 
wrote  his  celebrated  speech  on  the  trial  of 
Queen  Caroline  fourteen  times.  It  is  thus 
that  victories  are  won  !  Though,  for  myself,  I 
now  find  that  what  is  once  well  done  is  better 
left  alone.  It  was  not  always  quite  so  easy." 

V?.  D.  ElCHAED       DODDRIDGE       BLACKMOEE,       the 

Black-       author  of  that  immortal  story,  "  Lorna  Doone," 
more. 

and  of  several  other  powerful  novels  written 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  99 

with    a    charming     naturalism     which    goes  £•  D. 

-j-\  j       t 

straight  to  the  reader's  heart,  speaking  of  his  m™e  ' 
own  work,  says,  "If  I  contrive,  as  you  kindly 
suppose,  to  put  my  thoughts  into  concise  and 
clear  form,  it  is  done  by  no  special  skill  or 
practised  art,  but  simply  by  first  making  sure 
what  I  mean,  then  arranging  the  words  in 
straight  order  without  waste,  and  then  looking 
at  them,  as  with  a  stranger's  mind,  to  learn 
whether  he  would  take  them  as  I  have  done. 
Even  if  that  comes  right,  I  am  seldom  satisfied 
with  my  sentence,  any  more  than  a  criminal  is 
with  his,  for  sound  is  apt  to  conflict  with 
meaning,  and  a  host  of  little  obstacles  inter 
vene  betwixt  myself  and  a  superior  reader, 
which  at  last  I  must  trust  him  not  to  make  too 
much  of.  Here  is  a  sample  of  such  offence, 
Mast,'  *  mast,'  *  trust,'  all  ending  with  sibilant 
sameness !  But  after  all,  you  will,  I  think, 
agree  with  me  that  a  good  deal  depends  upon 
luck,  as  well  as  care ;  and  sometimes  a  writer 
must  be  satisfied  to  wait,  or  even  leave  off  and 
return  to  work  again,  before  he  can  hit  upon 
the  turn  of  words  required." 

"I  believe  myself,"  says  PERCY  FITZGEEALD,  ?•  Fitz 
gerald. 


100  METHODS  I 

P.  Fitz-  "  that  the  great  difficulty  in  good  literary  com- 
getald.  position  is  the  descriptive  analysis  of  feelings, 
characters,  impulses,  which  often  a  clever 
person  understands  perfectly,  but  does  not 
know  how  to  express  with  his  pen.  From  a 
boy  I  used  to  keep  a  very  elaborate  diary,  in 
which,  for  a  mere  pastime  and  self-entertain 
ment,  I  used  to  write  down  all  my  own 
emotions,  recollections  of  pleasant  scenes,  and 
thus  got  into  a  habit  of  writing  vivid  expres 
sion  in  a  few  words.  This,  you  will  note,  is 
no  more  than  practice  and  familiarity — but  the 
first  point  is  the  command  of  language.  I  may 
tell  you  that  practised  writers  on  the  press  can 
write  almost  instinctively,  and  on  any  subject, 
and  I  really  believe  I  could  sit  down  without 
an  instant's  preparation  and  write  a  very 
respectable  story,  the  ideas  coming  as  I  went 
along.  After  fluency  comes,  of  course,  discip 
line  ;  that  is,  correction  and  due  restraint." 

R,  E,  B.   E.    FEANCILLON,    best    known    as    the 

Fran-        author    of    several    popular    romances,   says  : 

"The    question    of    style    interests   me    very 

much,   not    only    for    personal    reasons,    but 

because  journalistic  work    obliges    me,  every 


CONSCIOUS    AND   UNCONSCIOUS.          '.'101 

day,  to  deal  practically  with  the  composition  R.  E. 
of  other  people ;  and  very  remarkable  experi-  ^J**" 
ences  one  gets  in  that  way.  I  am  a  purist,  at 
least  in  theory,  but  the  longer  one  lives  the 
more  one  finds  out  how  difficult  it  is  to  make 
practice  square  with  theory,  and  how  one's 
ideal,  instead  of  being  overtaken,  flies  further 
and  further  away.  I  never  gave  myself  any 
special  training  with  a  view  to  the  formation 
of  style.  I  wish  I  had ;  for  I  am  sure  that  it 
is  only  in  early  life  that  one  can  acquire  the 
immensely  important  faculty  of  letting  one's 
thoughts  immediately  and  instinctively  suggest 
their  own  fullest  expression.  I  have  not 
acquired  that  faculty,  and  I  do  not  suppose  I 
ever  shall.  I  have  still  always  to  consciously 
translate  my  thoughts  into  words ;  whereas  a 
writer's  style  ought,  for  a  hundred  reasons,  to 
have  much  of  the  spontaneous  character  of  the 
orator's,  with,  of  course,  the  advantage  of  finer 
polish.  Whatever  merits  of  style  I  may  have 
are,  I  believe,  to  be  summed  up  in  three  things 
— first,  to  having  read,  when  a  boy,  scarcely 
any  rubbish,  and  so  having  got  a  good  bias ; 
secondly,  to  having  always  taken  a  great 
interest  in  the  history  of  words,  which  some- 


"102  METHODS: 

R.  E.  how  seem  to  me  living  things  ;  thirdly,  to  the 
Fran-  practice,  for  pleasure's  sake,  of  translation  from 
foreign  languages  of  both  verse  and  prose  ;  not 
roughly,  so  as  to  give  the  meaning  only,  but 
with  an  attempt  to  render  all  the  finer  points 
and  shades  of  the  original.  I  am  a  great  be 
liever  iri  this  kind  of  exercise,  quite  apart  from 
my  own  liking,  and  for  other  reasons,  including 
the  benefit  I  know  I  unconsciously  derived 
from  it.  A  young  person,  when  writing  out  of 
himself,  is  occupied  with  thinking  of  what  he 
shall  say  too  much  to  think  of  how  he  shall 
say  it — in  translating  he  is  able  to  give  his 
whole  mind,  indeed  must  give  it,  to  the  how. 
Then,  if  he  writes  out  of  himself,  he  is  very 
likely  to  acquire  a  bad  style,  as  the  result  of 
necessarily  crude  thoughts  ;  if  he  translates 
what  is  worth  translating,  he  will  be  forced,  or 
drawn,  into  a  style  suitable  for  his  own 
thoughts,  when  they  become  mature — for  his 
own  mind  to  grow  up  to.  In  translating,  he 
must  think  of  every  word,  and  of  every  turn  of 
every  phrase,  and  feel  that  the  honour  of  his 
original  is  in  his  hands.  My  own  translations 
were  mostly  of  German  verse  and  Greek  prose. 
But  if  I  were  training  anybody  in  style,  I 


CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.     103 

should  exercise   him  upon    Latin   verse   and  Jt.  E. 


French  prose,  as  the  standards  respectively  of 
polish  and  lucidity,  obtained  from  an  apparent 
poverty  of  material.  Flexibility  of  style  would 
come  with  practice  ;  force  and  vigour  are  not  to 
be  acquired,  they  can  only  come  from  ft&rcible 
and  vigorous  thought,  and  from  nowhere  else 
in  the  world. 

"Two  things  are  very  much  worth  noticing 
—  not  every  scholar  has  had  a  good  English 
style,  but  every  writer  with  a  good  English 
style  has  been  more  or  less  a  scholar  ;  and  not 
every  writer  with  a  good  English  style  has 
been  a  poet,  but  every  poet  has  been  a  good 
writer  of  prose.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
scholarship,  in  the  old  sense,  and  the  practice 
of  writing  verse  in  any  language,  make  up  the 
best  foundation  for  style.  The  great  thing  to 
avoid  is  newspaper  English,  journalese,  with  its 
conventional  and  mechanical  phrases,  and  its 
slipshod  manner.  And  people  get  saturated  ' 
with  journalese  before  they  are  aware  of  it  ;  it 
is  becoming  a  blight  upon  literature.  When, 
for  example,  somebody  uses  the  phrase,  '  In 
point  of  fact/  does  he  intend  to  distinguish 
between  fact  and  fancy,  or  between  fact  and 


104  METHODS  : 

R.  E.  a  priori  argument,  or  does  he  mean  anything 
F™n~  at  all  ?  And  there  are  thousands  of  •  such 
meaningless  flourishes  of  the  pen.  In  the 
style  to  which  I  am  sure  anybody  who  is  in 
earnest  can  attain,  every  word  would  he  neces 
sary  ;  every  sentence  would  have  rhythm ;  no 
sentence  would  need  to  be  read  twice  for  the 
discovery  of  its  whole  meaning ;  and  the  writer 
would  be  able  to  show  cause  why  any  given 
sentence  had  its  given  form,  and  why  any 
word  in  it  was  used  instead  of  another.  If 
these  tests  were  answered,  the  style  would  be 
good  enough,  whatever  the  thought  might  be. 
How  to  obtain  the  instinctive  harmony  of 
thought  and  expression  I  know  not,  I  wish 
I  did  know !  But  whatever  it  be  it  is  clear 
enough  that  it  must  include  what  I  have  said 
— a  thoughtfulness  over  every  word,  which 
may  besome  by  habit  an  unconscious  second 
nature." 

Francis         FKANCis  GALTON,  the  distinguished  apostle 
Galfon.      Of  heredity,  is  an  author  who  deals  with  diffi 
cult  and  unusual  inquiries,  whose  books  are 
the  result  of  an  extremely  laborious  research, 
and  are  marked  by  great  ingenuity,  originality 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  105 

and  earnestness.     It   is   interesting   to  learn  Francis 
how   such   works  are  composed.     "I  have  a   Galton. 
singular  difficulty  in  writing,"  says  Mr.  Galton, 
"  due,  I   believe,   to   a   natural   habit   of  not 
thinking  in  articulate  words,  when   thinking 
hard,  but  using  gesture  thought  largely  instead 
of  language ;  so  that  when  I  want  to  express 
myself,  I  often  find  that  I  have,  as  it  wrere,  to 
translate.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  re-write  my 
MSS.  many  times,  and  correct  each  time  very 
much  indeed.     For  example,  at  this  moment  I 
am  revising  the  proofs  of  a  forthcoming  book, 
'  Natural     Inheritance.'       In     this,     besides 
frequent  re- writings  of  the  MS.,  I  have  had  it 
type-written  almost  throughout,  twice  in  suc 
cession,   and  yet  have  had  largely  to  correct 
the  proofs.     The  only  tendencies  that  enable 
me  to  write  intelligibly,  are  a  great  desire  to 
be  clear  in  thought  and  distinct  in  expression, 
and  an  inclination  to  take  much  pains.     Also  I 
have    great    appreciation   of  good   and  clear 
writing  by  others,  and  a  love  of  getting  at  the 
exact  meaning  of  words.     I  constantly  consult 
good  dictionaries,  finding  a  large  Dr.  Johnson, 
and  the  handy  Skeat's  Dictionary,  published 
by  the    Oxford   Clarendon    Press,   the    most 


106  METHODS  : 

Francis  useful.  Also  I  find  Eoget's  Thesaurus  of  the 
Galton.  greatest  help  in  disentangling  the  different 
meanings  of  a  word.  It  rarely  has  enabled  me 
to  find  one,  but  constantly  has  enabled  me  to 
observe  a  want  of  clearness.  This  very  day 
I  have  spent  a  good  half-hour  over  a  word 
process — '  the  processes  of  heredity ' — which  as 
yet  I  cannot  better,  but  which  does  not  explain 
exactly  what  I  want.  It  is  easy  enough  to  write 
off-hand,  like  this  letter,  but  it  is  difficult  to 
write  a  book.  In  what  the  difference  consists 
is  a  little  difficult  to  say,  and  I  will  not 
attempt  to  express  it  now.  I  occasionally  see 
The  Educational  Times,  and  when  I  do,  I 
marvel  at  the  beauty  of  the  prize  translations 
in  it.  Good  writers  have  the  art  of  building 
their  sentences  in  the  simplest  way,  with  the 
important  parts  first,  and  of  placing  what 
follows  in  the  most  easy-going  order." 

T  ^  J.  G.  WOOD  sent  me  a  full  account  of  his 

J.    Lr. 

Wood.  method  of  work.  His  painfully  sudden  death 
gives  this  contribution  a  pathetic  interest. 
During  his  laborious  life  Mr.  Wood  did  more 
perhaps  than  any  other  writer  to  intensify  the 
popular  regard  for  the  study  of  natural  history. 


CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  107 

He  said,  "  I  never  had  any  special  training  for  jm  Qm 
the  pen,  but  have  always  adopted  a  most  careful  Wood. 
method.  In  the  first  place,  I  never  write  on 
any  subject,  however  trifling,  without  being 
perfectly  saturated  with  it,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
play  with  it  if  needful.  Then  the  methodical 
laying  out  of  the  subject  occupies  at  least  as 
much  time  as  the  actual  writing,  often  more. 
Take  for  example  a  magazine  article.  After 
thinking  over  the  subject,  I  open  a  sheet  of 
foolscap  and  jot  down  upon  it  the  various 
points  which  I  want  to  make,  shifting  and 
reshifting  them  until  the  article  is  in  skeleton. 
Then  I  take  each  of  the  headings  and  expand 
them  in  the  same  manner.  Next  I  cut  up  the 
foolscap,  which  by  that  time  is  covered  with 
abbreviated  notes,  try  various  alterations  in 
arrangement,  and  then  paste  them  together  in 
the  amended  order.  By  this  time  I  see  the 
complete  article  like  a  picture,  and  not  until 
all  these  details  are  satisfactorily  completed  do 
I  begin  to  write. 

"  Equal  pains  are  taken  with  the  manner  of 
writing.  It  has  always  been  my  aim  to  write 
so  lucidly  that  no  one  shall  be  obliged  to 
read  a  sentence  twice  in  order  to  ascertain  its 


108  METHODS  : 

7  Qt  meaning  ;  and  if  I  be  not  satisfied  with  the 
Wood.  construction  of  a  sentence,  I  put  it  into  Latin, 
and  see  how  it  looks.  Another  point  is,  that 
when  describing  or  explaining  any  scientific 
matter,  I  try  to  put  myself  into  the  mental 
position  of  a  reader  who  is  absolutely  ignorant 
of  the  subject.  Simplicity,  again,  is  one  of  my 
aims.  I  hold  that  language  is  intended  to  be 
a  means  of  conveying  ideas  from  one  mind  to 
another,  and  that  the  best  language  is  that 
which  conveys  ideas  to  the  greatest  number 
of  minds.  So  I  never  employ  scientific  tech 
nology  when  the  same  idea  can  be  conveyed 
in  simple  English  terms.  Scientific  nomen 
clature,  like  that  comforting  word  '  Mesopo 
tamia,'  may  be  imposing,  but  it  is  only 
intelligible  to  the  few,  whereas  I  write  for 
the  many." 

SirA.H.  Sir  AUSTEN  HENRY  LAYARD,  whose  ac- 
Layan  .  coun^s  of  researches  in  Nineveh  have  been  so 
widely  read,  fears  he  has  no  right  to  a  place 
amongst  writers  of  forcible  English.  He  says, 
"  I  had  no  training  in  my  youth  in  composition 
with  a  view  to  authorship.  I  left  England 
when  very  young  on  my  travels  in  the  East, 


CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  109 

and  have  been  more  or  less  a  wanderer  ever  SirA.IL 
since.  When  I  published  the  accounts  of  my 
discoveries  in  Assyria  and  Babylonia,  I  had  had 
no  practice  whatever  in  writing.  I  trusted 
to  my  full  acquaintance  with  the  subject  of 
which  I  had  to  treat,  and  did  my  best  to  express 
my  meaning  intelligibly.  I  was  of  course 
acquainted  to  a  certain  extent  with  our  best 
authors,  and  my  style,  such  as  it  was,  was 
founded  upon  that  of  the  writers  of  the  early 
part  of  last  century,  which  I  most  admired. 
My  method  has  been  simply  this — to  think 
well  on  the  subject  which  I  had  to  deal  with 
and  when  thoroughly  impressed  with  it  and 
acquainted  with  it  in  all  its  details,  to  write 
away  without  stopping  to  choose  a  word, 
leaving  a  blank  where  I  was  at  a  loss  for  it ; 
to  express  myself  as  simply  as  possible  in 
vernacular  English,  and  afterwards  to  go 
through  what  I  had  written,  striking  out  all 
redundancies,  and  substituting,  when  possible, 
simpler  and  more  English  words  for  those  I 
might  have  written.  I  found  that  by  follow 
ing  this  method  I  could  generally  reduce  very 
considerably  in  length  what  I  had  put  on  paper 
without  sacrificing  anything  of  importance  or 


110  METHODS : 

SirA.H.  rendering  myself  less  intelligible.  I  know 
Layard.  verv  few  mo^ern  W0rks  which  could  not  be  cut 
down  to  half  their  size  with  advantage  in  every 
respect.  My  method  would  thus  be  described  : 
Make  yourself  thoroughly  acquainted  with  your 
subject  before  writing,  write  without  special 
attention  to  composition,  and  prune  afterwards 
what  you  have  written." 

Prof.  A.  "I  could  not  in  a  few  minutes,"  writes  Pro- 
Bam.  fessor  ALEXANDER  BAIN,  "  convey  to  you  any 
idea  of  my  education  in  English  style.  It  began 
when  instruction  was  entirely  wanting  in  the 
schools  and  university.  I  had  one  valuable 
monitor  in  our  Professor  of  Chemistry — 
Clarke  ;  and  for  the  rest  I  had  to  study  authors 
at  random.  Eobert  Hall's  collected  works 
came  out  when  I  was  a  student,  and  I  read 
the  whole  many  times  over.  I  was  also  influ 
enced  by  Dr.  Chalmers,  especially  in  the  point 
of  iteration  of  leading  ideas.  When  I  began 
writing,  I  strove  after  lucidity  to  the  best  of 
my  power,  but  it  was  long  ere  I  discovered  the 
precise  arts  for  securing  it.  This  grew  out  of 
my  rhetorical  teaching  in  the  English  class  of 
the  university." 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  Ill 

"  I  suppose,"  says  FREDERICK  W.  H.  MYERS,  /?  w.  H. 
"  that  my  study  of  classical  Greek  and  Latin  Myers. 
authors,  especially  Virgil  and  Plato,  may  have 
had  some  good  effect  by  familiarising  the  mind 
with  the  best  models.  But  it  seems  to  me 
that  almost  the  only  way  to  write  effectively  is 
to  choose  some  subject  on  which  one  really 
feels  deeply  and  has  thought  long,  and  then  to 
select  and  arrange  one's  language  with  a  strong 
desire  that  one's  readers  shall  understand  just 
what  one  means,  and  be  persuaded  that  it  is 
true.  I  try  to  read  over  what  I  write  as 
though  I  wrere  a  reader  both  somewhat  hostile 
and  somewhat  dull  of  apprehension,  and  I  try 
to  remove  any  stumbling-blocks  which  such  a 
reader  might  encounter  in  wording  or  arrange 
ment.  And  when  one's  own  emotion  is  strong 
it  seems  to  impose  its'owrn  words,  even  its 
own  rhythm,  and  to  forbid  any  alternative 
mode  of  expression." 

CELIA   THAXTER,  an  American  poet,  says :   Celia 
"  Up  to  the  time  of  my  marriage  my  life  was  Thaxter* 
passed  in  this  wild  place  " — Isles  of  Shoals, 
off   Portsmouth,   N.H. — "  without  schools  or 
church,   or   any  society   except   that    of    my 


112  METHODS  : 

Ce/ia  parents  and  two  little  brothers.  My  father 
Thaxter.  taught  me  what  he  knew.  The  first  verses  I 
remember  to  have  written  sang  themselves,  a 
spontaneous  expression  of  the  home-sickness 
for  my  islands  after  my  marriage,  when  I  left 
them  for  the  first  time.  I  gave  these  verses  to 
a  friend,  who  in  her  turn  gave  them  to  her 
brother,  who  was  on  the  staff  of  The  Atlantic 
at  that  time,  and  he  put  them  into  the  hands 
of  James  Kussell  Lowell,  the  editor,  who 
christened  them  '  Land-locked '  and  printed 
them  in  the  magazine.  No  one  was  so  much 
surprised  as  I !  The  poem  is  the  first  in  the 
first  volume  of  my  books.  After  that,  verses 
were  always  weaving  themselves  in  my  brain. 
I  don't  know  why  they  came  or  how  they 
grew  ;  it  was  my  kismet  I  suppose.  One  rule 
I  laid  down  for  myself,  to  keep  religiously — 
one  or  two,  perhaps  I  should  say — but  this  one 
in  especial :  never  to  use  more  words  than  I 
could  help  to  give  my  full  meaning ;  never  to 
speak  a  sentence  that  was  not  as  crystal  clear 
as  I  could  make  it ;  never  to  sacrifice  anything 
to  the  allurements  of  melodious  rhyming.  To 
be  perfectly  direct  and  as  clear  as  daylight  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  my  peace  of  mind." 


CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  113 

Professor  EDWARD  DOWDEN,  the  eminent  Prof,  E. 
Shakespearian  scholar,  writes  an  interesting  Dowden 
account  of  his  early  training  and  experience. 
"As  to  my  own  apprenticeship  in  writing,"  he 
says,  "  I  have  only  to  tell  what  I  suppose 
many  other  persons  could  tell  if  you  were  to 
ask  them.  When  I  was  a  very  small  boy  my 
father  required  me  to  write  a  letter  about  any 
thing  I  liked  once  a  week.  It  was  perhaps  an 
advantage  that  no  subject  was  named.  Later 
on  this  grew  into  a  weekly  essay  for  my  tutor, 
the  subject  being  still  left  to  myself.  I  took 
great  pleasure  in  this  task,  and  therefore  I  did 
my  best  to  make  each  little  essay  good.  We 
attempted — my  brother  and  sister  and  one  or 
two  friends — to  get  up  a  small  club  for  essay 
writing,  but  the  first  and  only  essay  written  was 
one  by  myself  on  Shakespeare.  I  don't  remem 
ber  why  the  design  dropped,  but  at  a  later  time 
it  was  revived,  and  I  wrote  three  or  four  playful 
essays  and  one  story.  My  weekly  essays  for 
my  tutor  were  generally  on  literary  topics,  and 
I  was  promised  as  a  prize  when  thirty-six  had 
been  written — my  mother's  copy  of  Shake 
speare  in  twelve  volumes,  which  I  still  possess. 
The  essays  have  long  since  been  burnt,  but  I 


114  METHODS : 

Prof.  E.  can  remember  that  I  wrote  in  an  imitative 
Dowden.  wav  jn  many  styles,  and  could  produce  echoes 
of  Lamb,  De  Quincey,  A.  K.  H.  B.,  and  the 
smart  style  of  reviewing  in  The  Atlienceum.  I 
remember  in  particular  a  very  smart  review  in 
The  Athenceum  style  on  Longfellow's  'Hia 
watha,'  which  had  just  appeared.  My  skill  in 
manipulating  words  and  sentences  was  a  good 
deal  in  excess  of  my  power  of  thought,  and 
this  was  somewhat  demoralising  I  am  sure. 
I  have  somewhere  still  two  essays  which  I 
read  at  a  young  men's  society  when  about 
fifteen  years  old,  on  '  The  Use  of  Imagination 
in  the  Study  of  History,'  and  on  *  Bacon's 
Essays/ 

"  I  certainly  read  a  great  deal  of  good  verse 
and  prose  when  a  boy,  Spenser  and  Bacon, 
Butler's  Analogy — which  I  have  never  been 
able  to  think  ill-written—Wordsworth,  Shake 
speare,  the  Bible,  and  much  besides.  Words 
worth  for  a  long  time  quite  swallowed  me  up. 
I  lost  myself  in  him.  At  sixteen  I  entered 
college  (too  early),  joined  the  students'  philo 
sophical  society,  where  essays  were  read  and 
discussed,  and  wrote  a  paper  on  the  philosophi 
cal  subject  of  '  Nursery  Rhymes  and  Legends/ 


CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  115 

which  was  afterwards  printed  unaltered  in  The  Prof.  E. 
Temple  Bar.     I  also,  as  a  freshman,  wrote  for 
the  prize  for  English  verse,  and  gained  it  by 
a   blank  verse   competition   on   '  Westminster 
Abbey.'     I  tried  again  and  failed,  but  gained  a 
prose  prize  for  a  long  essay  on  the  *  Influences 
of  the  Present  Age  on  Poetry  and  Art.'    Before 
this,  however,  I  had  worked  hard  for  honours 
in     the     logical,    ethical,    arid     metaphysical 
courses,  and  never  ceased  from  hard  work  in 
this  department  for  three  years.    This  hardened 
and   stiffened   my  way  of  writing,  for   I  was 
trying    to    think    more    than    to   manipulate 
sentences.     I  ought  to  say  that  ever  since  I 
wras  a  boy  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  copying 
a  great  deal  into  note-books — first,  the  discon 
nected  passages  of  prose  or  verse  which  I  ad 
mired  ;  and  afterwards,  I  worked  through  a  very 
long  course  of  philosophical  books,  analysing 
and  condensing  each  with  great  pains.    Then  I 
got  an  introduction  to  Dean  Alford,  when  The 
Contemporary  Review  was  started,  and  wrote 
in  the  second  number  a  long  study  of  '  French 
./Esthetics.'      I   should  think  its   fault  is  the 
attempt  to  make  an  abstract  subject  popular 
by  little  efforts  at  cleverness.     By  that  time  I 


116  METHODS: 

Prof.  E.    was  nearly  twenty-three  years  old,  at  which 
Dowden. 


"Before  that  date  I  had  had  two  years'  study 
of  divinity,  which  was  in  some  degree  a  kind 
of  combination  of  my  studies  in  what  we 
here  call  '  Logics  and  Ethics.'  Looking  back, 
I  seem  to  see  that  I  always  knew  some  one 
book  exceedingly  well.  At  one  time  it  was 
Bacon's  Essays,  at  another  Butler's  Analogy 
and  Sermons,  at  another  Wordsworth's  Poems, 
at  another  Shakespeare's  Sonnets  ;  and  then  it 
would  often  happen  that  the  one  book  dropped 
out  of  sight  until  I  quite  forgot  it.  I  have 
almost  up  to  the  present  time  been  in  this  way 
a  man  of  one  book,  only  the  book  was  a  differ 
ent  one  from  year  to  year.  I  have  now  told 
you  everything  I  can  remember  ;  and  I  think 
such  apprenticeship  as  I  got  falls  into  three 
periods  :  first,  when  I  was  learning  the  use  of 
the  means  of  expression  in  a  queer  way,  inas 
much  as  I  hadn't  much  to  express  ;  second, 
when  I  was  learning  in  some  measure  to 
think;  and  third,  when  I  was  escaping  from  the 
somewhat  formal  way  of  thinking  and  writing 
imposed  by  my  studies,  to  one  freer  and  more 
personal."  In  a  subsequent  note  Professor 


CONSCIOUS  AND    UNCONSCIOUS.  117 

Dowden  says,  "In  writing  narrative,  which  I  Prof.E. 
have  had  some  practice  in,  I  believe  the  most  ^)<nvden' 
important  thing  is  to  discover,  and  then  con 
ceal,  a  logic,  a  rational  order  in  the  sequence, 
of  topics.  A  mass  of  incident  has  to  be  set 
forth,  and  the  great  art  is  to  convert  what  is 
merely  chronological  into  a  rational  sequence, 
where  one  thing  leads  on  to  another  as  it  were 
by  natural  associations.  When  one  has  picked 
out  the  facts,  separated  them  into  groups,  and 
decided  on  the  order  in  which  the  groups 
shall  succeed  one  another,  the  thing  is  really 
done.  When  I  say  '  logic/  perhaps  I  mean  in 
many  cases  a  logic  of  the  emotions  rather  than 
of  the  intellect." 

The  series  of  experiences  narrated  in  this   Sir  G. 
chapter,  all  bearing  directly  or  indirectly  upon      '        ~ 
method,  either  in  preparation  for  or   in    the 
actual  accomplishment  of  literary  labour,  may 
appropriately  be  closed  by  the  following  simple 
and  most   useful   suggestions    contributed  by 
Sir  GEOEGE  OTTO  TEEVELYAN.     "  In  my  view 
there   are  three  sorts  of  composition,  which 
should  be  treated  differently.     1.  In   literary 
work  a  man  should  have  a  standard  of  what  is 


118  METHODS  :  CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS. 

Sir  G.       the  very  best  that  he  himself  can  do,  and  he 

O.  Tre-     should  spare  no  labour  until  he  is  satisfied  that 
t 

that  best  has  been  attained.     He  has  no  right 

to  print  anything  which  aspires  to  be  literature 
unless  it  is,  in  the  smallest  particular  of  form 
and  substance,  as  good  as  he  can  make  it. 
Exercises  at  school  and  college  come  under 
this  head,  and  no  lad  who  wishes  to  write  his 
best  should  hesitate  at  giving  the  leisure  of  a 
whole  day  to  produce  even  four  lines,  when  he 
first  begins  to  write.  He  will  soon  get  to 
write  his  best  quite  as  fast  as  need  be.  2.  In 
speeches  and  lectures  the  very  greatest  atten 
tion  should  be  paid  to  the  general  structure  of 
the  speech,  and  to  the  arguments,  the  illustra 
tions,  and  the  facts ;  but  the  words  should  be 
those  which  come  naturally.  3.  In  conversa 
tion  and  letters  no  forethought  should  be  taken 
at  all,  but  the  tongue  and  pen  should  be  left  to 
themselves.  In  this  way  a  man  will  treat  every 
form  of  expression  according  to  the  purpose 
for  which  it  is  intended.  His  literary  style 
will  have  the  ease  of  his  conversation,  and  his 
familiar  letters,  conversation,  and  speeches 
will  profit  by  the  labour  which  he  spends  on 
his  literary  work." 


THE    INFLUENCE    OF    READING   ON 
LITE  BABY   STYLE. 


THE      INFLUENCE      OF      BEADING    ON 
LITERARY    STYLE. 

WE  might  range  almost  the  entire  series 
of  our  contributions  from  present- 
day  authors  under  the  above  topic.  The  vast 
majority  of  those  whose  names  find  a  place  in 
these  pages  testify  to  a  systematic,  or  to  an  un 
systematic  but  very  beneficial  species  of  mental 
culture,  derived  from  reading.  They  had,  and 
still  have,  a  strong  passion  for  books.  It  has 
been  their  delight  to  read  whatever  came  in  their 
way,  to  assimilate  all  that  suited  them,  and  to 
let  the  rest  go.  Our  selections  in  this  chapter 
will  show  what  an  education  of  thought  and 
heart,  and  what  a  powerful  formative  influence 
upon  their  style  of  composition  this  intensive 
and  extensive  reading  exerted. 

Of  course  there  is  nothing  uncommon  in 
such  testimony.  The  results  indicated  are 
perfectly  natural  and  inevitable.  A  good 
book,  as  John  Milton  says,  "is  the  priceless 
life-blood  of  a  master  spirit ; "  and  any  man 


122  THE   INFLUENCE   OF    BEADING 

who  reads  that  book  intelligently  and 
sympathetically  will  have  its  author's 
"  precious  life-blood  "  infused  into  his  own 
being,  to  strengthen  and  give  mastery  to  his 
spirit.  Converse  with  great  books  is  converse 
with  great  minds.  It  brings  us  into  personal 
contact  with  the  ideas,  the  convictions,  the 
truths  which  have  moved  and  inspired  the 
world's  best  and  noblest  thinkers ;  and  what 
so  animates  and  rouses  the  mind,  and  makes 
it  emulous  of  larger  attainment  ?  To  read  the 
Bible,  not  superficially,  but  thoroughly,  to 
become  acquainted  with  Shakespeare,  to  make 
ourselves  familiar  with  Lord  Bacon's  works,  or 
the  writings  of  Leibnitz,  of  Goethe,  of  Dante, 
or  of  Plato,  that  is  an  education  of  priceless 
value.  It  is  a  broad  and  generous  culture 
which  emancipates  our  minds  from  narrowness, 
and  gives  them  that  insight  and  experience 
which  sends  us  out  looking  everywhere  for 
wrhat  is  good,  beautiful,  and  true.  For  the 
knowledge  which  we  absorb,  which  becomes 
part  of  ourselves,  which  roots  itself  in  our 
consciousness,  colours  every  aspect  of  our 
thought  and  action,  and  uplifts  us,  so  that  we 
become,  in  the  expressive  Scripture  phrase, 


ON   LITERARY    STYLE.  123 

"  New  creatures,"  in  whom  "  old  things  have 
passed  away,  and  all  things  have  become  new." 
Fellowship  with  the  best  books  may,  for 
this  reason,  be  regarded  as  the  surest  means 
of  improving  our  own  literary  style.  What 
ever  benefits  us  in  mind,  heart,  soul,  must 
necessarily  colour  all  we  attempt  and  all  we 
do.  Perhaps  I  may  even  say  such  fellowship 
is  the  only  means  of  such  improvement.  A 
correct  knowledge  of  the  intricacies  of  English 
grammar  must  assuredly  prove  most  helpful, 
but  power  to  use  our  noble  English  speech 
with  grace  and  force  can  never  be  attained 
by  any  mere  learning  of  technical  rules,  how 
ever  admirable.  That  power  comes  only  by 
familiarity  with  the  best  literature.  The  con 
tributions  which  follow  will  abundantly 
illustrate  the  truth  of  this  assertion. 

ERNEST  KENAN  is  my  first  witness.     He  is  Ernest 
perhaps   the   most  remarkable,   as   he  is  cer-   Renan- 
tainly  the  most  renowned,   French   writer  of 
to-day.     He    is  not  only  a  man  of  immense 
erudition  and   of  high   scientific  attainments, 
but  in  composition  is  master  of  a  style  perfect 
in  its  grace  and  charm,  its  luminous  clearness 


124  THE   INFLUENCE   OF   BEADING 

Ernest  and  finished  simplicity.  Mostly  dealing  with 
Renan.  austere  themes,  he  yet  clothes  his  thoughts 
with  such  brilliant  vivacity,  such  strength  of 
expression,  such  resources  of  fertile  imagina 
tion,  that  his  books  are  almost  as  fascinating 
to  read  as  a  powerful  romance.  The  following 
is  a  translation  in  full  of  M.  Eenan's  letter  : — 
"  I  have  not  time  to  write  you  at  length. 
Besides,  the  best  answer  to  your  question  may 
be  the  shortest.  To  write  well  is  to  think  well ; 
there  is  no  art  of  style  distinct  from  the 
culture  of  the  mind.  The  good  writer  is  a 
complete  mind,  gifted  with  judgment,  passion, 
imagination,  and  at  the  same  time  well  trained. 
The  inner  qualities  of  rectitude,  of  brilliant 
geniality,  are  not  given  ;  instruction,  wealth  of 
in  formation,  fulness  of  knowledge,  are  acquired. 
Thus  good  training  of  the  mind  is  the  only 
school  of  good  style.  Wanting  that,  you  have 
merely  rhetoric  and  bad  taste.  Your  letter 
breathes  so  much  sincerity  that  I  have  made 
an  exception  in  its  case  to  the  rule  I  have 
placed  myself  under,  of  very  rare  letter- writing. 
Make  your  readers  vigorous  thinkers,  con 
scientious  scholars,  and  they  will  be  good 
writers." 


ON   LITERARY   STYLE.  125 

Another  great  French  scholar,  well  known  H.  A. 
to  English  readers  as  the  author  of  a  "  History  Taine* 
of  English  Literature,"  which  has  had  a  wide 
circulation  amongst  us  through  the  medium  of 
the  excellent  translation  "by  Van  Laun,  may 
he  quoted  here.  II.  A.  TAINE  says  :  "  The 
men  of  my  time  in  France  have  all  received  a 
special  training  with  a  view  to  style.  It  was 
a  classical  discipline  through  the  detailed  and 
prolonged  study  of  the  great  Greek,  Latin,  and 
French  writers.  Eeproducing  these  by  short 
and  nervous  translations,  we  were  thus  made 
to  note  their  oratorical  and  literary  effects. 
We  analysed  their  phrases,  their  paragraphs, 
their  entire  chapters ;  we  discerned  the  play  of 
them  ;  we  thus  learned  to  make  good  plans, 
which  is  always  an  important  point.  Now,  in 
our  day,  I  still  believe  this  method  to  be  the 
best.  There  are  masterpieces,  both  ancient 
and  modern,  in  which  the  masters  have  con 
centrated  their  efforts.  To  discover  their 
processes  it  is  necessary  to  analyse  these 
masterpieces.  This  is  why,  were  I  giving 
advice  to  a  young  man,  I  should  engage  him 
above  all  things  to  read  for  a  long  time,  pen  in 
hand,  the  great  writers  of  different  countries, 


]26  THE   INFLUENCE   OF   READING 

H.  A.  to  learn  from  them  to  speak  in  public.  The 
Tame.  speeches,  the  essays,  and  the  history  of 
England,  by  Macaulay  ;  the  tales  and  pam 
phlets  of  Swift  ;  with  us,  the  Provincial 
Letters  of  Pascal  and  the  pamphlets  of  Paul 
Louis  Courier,  are  incomparable  monuments 
of  genius.  When  a  finely-gifted  mind  shall 
have  grasped  their  meaning,  he  is  capable,  if 
full  of  faith  and  enthusiasm,  of  persuading  and 
convincing  all  his  hearers."  M.  Taine's  own 
writing  is  always  strong.  Sometimes  his  corn- 
position  is  singularly  epigrammatic  and  forceful. 
Summing  up  men  and  events  in  striking 
phrases  and  epithets,  opening  great  subjects 
by  delicate  hints,  delighting  us  every  now  and 
again  with  charming  little  poems  in  prose,  he 
makes  it  impossible  for  us  to  read  his  books 
with  any  sense  of  weariness.  They  are  excel 
lent  models  for  the  student  of  expressive 
speech. 

Sir  E.          Sir    EDWIN     ARNOLD,    the     accomplished 

Arnold.     autnor  of  «  The  Light  of  Asia,"  and  of  many 

lyrics  of  great  beauty,  says :  "  I  wish  I  could 

give  you  any  experiences  of  a  practical  kind 

upon  the  art  of  composition  worth  conveying 


ON   LITEBAEY  STYLE,  127 

to  your  readers.  But  it  is  often  the  case  that  Si?  E 
the  artist  knows  less  of  his  own  methods  than  Arnold 
the  expert  who  analyses  and  registers  them. 
Since  you  are  pleased  to  find  in  my  writings 
the  qualities  you  speak  of,  I  will  briefly  observe 
that  I  think  no  elevation  or  charm  of  style  can 
be  obtained  without  a  constant  artistic  effort 
to  lift  language  to  its  best  expression.  The 
good  writer  never  chooses  a  word  at  hazard, 
or  without  noting  its  harmony  in  sound  as  well 
as  sense  with  what  precedes  and  follows.  He 
never  willingly  commits  the  fault  of  tautology, 
for  repetition  of  phrase  or  epithet  galls  the  ear ; 
he  never  employs  redundant  epithets,  taking 
care  that  each  adjective  shall  import  fresh 
ideas.  There  is  as  much  music  in  good  prose 
as  verse,  and  the  conscientious  writer  is  as  par 
ticular  in  one  as  the  other,  although  verse,  of 
course,  demands  the  finer  and  closer  work. 
The  great  thing  is  to  believe  in  the  importance, 
almost  in  the  vitality,  of  words,  and  to  use 
none  without  the  care  of  the  mosaic  maker 
fitting  in  his  terrace.  This  grows  to  become 
a  habit,  and  is  quite  consistent  with  very  rapid 
work. 

"  Then  one  must  have  a  good  and  well-stored 


128  THE  INFLUENCE   OF  READING 

Sir  E.  memory,  which  means  preferring  always  great 
Arnold,  examples  to  imitate.  I  have  myself  a  most 
tenacious  memory,  enabling  me  to  carry  about 
my  classics,  my  oriental  authors,  Shakes 
peare,  &c.,  in  my  head.  This  can  be 
acquired  by  practice  in  early  life,  and  is  very 
valuable.  Of  course  the  wider  the  foundation 
is  laid  of  early  study  the  larger  will  be  the 
subsequent  command  of  language  and  illus 
tration.  I  am  afraid  I  must  lay  it  down  as  an 
axiom  not  to  be  gainsaid,  that  nobody,  not  even 
that  master  of  spoken  English,  Mr.  Bright, — 
absolutely  none,  can  be  a  true  judge  or  example 
of  style  who  does  not  well  know  the  classics. 
It  seems  to  me  impossible  that  any  hand  can 
lend  the  last  and  loveliest  finish  to  a  sentence, 
or  to  a  verse,  who  has  never  dwelled  on  the 
perfect  labour  of  Horace,  the  jewelled  Latin 
of  Virgil,  Homer's  deep-sea  music,  and  the  im 
perial  dignity  of  the  chief  historians  of  Greece 
and  Eome.  I  think,  indeed,  that  to  write 
real,  simple  English  well,  a  man  should  know 
at  least  as  much  as  I  do  in  the  way  of  living 
and  dead  languages — I  can  read  eight  or  nine 
— and  I  think  the  more  he  knows  the  simpler 
will  be  his  style.  Only  mark  that  all  the 


ON  LITERARY   STYLE.  129 

complexities  will  be  latent  in  that  simplicity  ;  sir  E. 
and  the  practised  writer's  taste  will  never  be  Arnold. 
so  vigilant  and  self-questioning  as  when  he 
seems  to  be  abandoning  his  pen  to  its  own 
fervour.  In  fine,  one  must  believe  in  all  art  to 
be  an  artist,  and  most  of  all  in  the  divine  art 
of  writing.  And  one  must  have  perpetual 
good-will  and  steadfast  purpose.  The  only 
reason  of  rny  success  is,  that  I  would  give  the 
world  to  say  or  do  anything  helpful  to  my 
kind/' 

GEOHGE  MEREDITH,  poet  and  novelist,  has  G.  Mere- 
won  for  himself  a  permanent  place  in  the  &*&• 
ranks  of  the  most  artistic,  the  most  thoughtful, 
as  well  as  the  most  brilliant  writers  of  our  era. 
Once  read,  his  works  can  never  be  forgotten. 
Shakespeare's  men  and  women  are  not  more 
alive  than  his ;  while  their  sentiments  and 
actions  are  portrayed  with  a  keen  wit,  a  deep 
wisdom,  and  a  knowledge  of  human  nature  truly 
Remarkable.  He  says,  "  I  see  there  has  been 
writing  of  late  by  the  younger  hands  upon 
their  methods  ;  and  some  of  them  may  have 
come  to  a  certain  perfection,  they  may  be 
stylists.  But  it  must  be  rather  your  liking 


130  THE    INFLUENCE   OF   EEADING 

G.  Mere-  than  discrimination  which  gives  me  a  claim 
dith.  to  this  title.  I  have  no  style,  though  I  suppose 
my  work  is  distinctive.  I  am  too  experimental 
in  phrases  to  be  other  than  a  misleading  guide. 
I  can  say  that  I  have  never  written  without 
having  clear  in  vision  the  thing  put  to  paper  ; 
and  yet  this  has  been  the  cause  of  roughness 
and  uncommonness  in  the  form  of  speech. 

"  Your  theme  is  well  chosen.  Impress  on 
your  readers  the  power  of  the  right  use  of 
emphasis,  and  of  the  music  that  there  is  in 
prose,  and  how  to  vary  it.  One  secret  is,  to 
be  full  of  meaning,  warm  with  the  matter  to 
be  delivered.  The  best'  training  in  early  life 
is  verse.  That  serves  for  the  management  of 
our  Saxon  tongue ;  and  may  excuse  the  verse 
of  Addison,  in  consideration  of  what  he  did, 
side  by  side  with  La  Bruyere,  to  produce  his 
pellucid  prose.  Show,  nevertheless,  that  this 
Addisonian  style  can  run  only  in  the  bounds 
of  a  brook ;  it  cannot  be  largely  allusive  or 
guardedly  imaginative.  Hawthorne,  at  his  best, 
in  some  Italian  pictures,  has  an  unrivalled 
penetrative  delicacy.  Explain  that  we  have 
besides  a  Saxon,  a  Latin  tongue  in  our  English, 
and  indicate  where,  each  is  to  be  employed,  and 


ON  LITERARY   STYLE.  131 

the  subjects  which  may  unite  them  ;  as,  for  G.  Mere- 
example,  in  the  wonderful  sweep  of  a  sentence 
of  Gibbon,  from  whose  forge  Macaulay  got  his 
inferior  hammer.  Warn  against  excessive  anti 
thesis — a  trick  for  pamphleteers.  Bid  your 
young  people  study  the  best  French  masters.  I 
think  it  preferable,  especially  in  these  days  of 
quantity,  to  be  largely  epigrammatic  rather 
than  exuberant  in  diction  ;  therefore  I  would 
recommend  the  committing  to  memory  of 
passages  of  Juvenal.  And  let  the  descrip 
tion  of  a  battle  by  Caesar  and  one  by  Kinglake 
be  contrasted,  for  an  instance  of  the  pregnant 
brevity  which  pricks  imagination  and  the  wide 
discursiveness  which  exhausts  it.  Between 
these  two,  leaning  to  the  former,  lies  the  golden 
mean. 

"I  wish  you  well  in  your  address  to  these 
young  men,  and  that  I  could  be  of  greater  aid, 
both  in  my  literary  example  and  the  present 
intimations  of  how  it  might  have  been  bettered, 
though  there  is  one  point  I  should  add  :  That, 
granting  a  certain  capacity  in  the  writer,  he 
will  do  wisely,  while  schooling  his  nature,  not 
too  violently  to  compress  or  restain  it.  If 
by  chance  you  mention  me  to  them, 


132  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  BEADING 

G.  Mere-  assure   them   that   my  heart  is  always  with 
the  young." 

In  a  second  note,  Mr.  Meredith  said :  "  The 
highest  examples  of  style  are  in  Greek  and 
Latin,  following  them,  and  derived  from  the 
classics,  French.  A  study  of  French  prose  is 
useful,  even  needful.  But  some  knowledge  of 
the  classical  masterpieces  is  absolutely  neces 
sary  to  the  writer  who  would  pour  copiously, 
yet  not  overwhelm;  he  condensed,  yet  not 
obscure.  In  German  the  English  find  their 
own  natural  faults  exaggerated,  and  Italian 
prose  is  verbose,  a  coil  of  sounding  phrases, 
Boccaccio,  graceful  though  he  is,  destroyed  the 
charm  of  limpid  purity  in  the  old  stories  he 
drew  from.  An  orator  like  John  Bright, 
treating  of  public  affairs  and  the  simpler 
emotions,  may  rely  on  his  native  genius 
to  dispense  with  a  literary  knowledge  enabling 
him  to  be  critical.  But  had  he  to  discourse 
in  and  on  deeper  matters — Philosophy — he 
would  require  a  richer  tongue,  and  the 
critical  knowledge  necessary  to  guide  it* 
"Writing  is  an  art  as  painting  is,  and  in 
both  we  must  begin  by  reverent  study  of  the 
masters." 


ON  LITEEABY  STYLE.  133 

F.  MARION  CRAWFORD  is  a  novelist  of  con-  F.  M, 
siderable  talent,  whose  splendid  stories,  so  solid  Craw- 
in  substance,  so  vigorous  in  expression,  so  ab- 
sorbing  in  interest,  move  on  with  increasing 
dramatic  force  from  the  opening  chapters  to 
the  close.  Writing  from  his  Italian  home,  Mr. 
Crawford  says,  "  Any  facility  in  writing  Eng 
lish  which  I  had  when  I  began  literary  work 
I  owe  to  my  mother,  who  writes  exceedingly 
well,  though  she  never  published  anything. 
From  the  time  when  I  was  a  schoolboy,  her 
letters  impressed  me  very  forcibly,  and  I  used 
even  then  to  try  and  imitate  her  style.  In  this 
you  will  see  that  I  had  a  great  advantage  over 
most  lads.  In  all  cases,  however,  I  should  say, 
to  boys  and  young  men — It  is  worth  while  to 
take  pains  about  the  home  letters.  Most  boys 
have  no  other  opportunity  for  putting  their  own 
impressions  upon  paper.  In  writing  themes 
and  compositions  at  school,  when  these  are  re 
quired,  the  subject  is  generally  given  out,  and 
the  boy  does  little  more  than  try  to  reproduce 
what  he  has  read  or  heard  concerning  the 
matter.  His  personal  feelings  about  his  life 
would  make  the  best  subject,  together  with 
accurate  descriptions  of  the  lives  of  others. 


134  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  BEADING 

F.  M.  "  Secondly,  I  believe  the  study  of  the  classics 

Craw-  to  be  of  the  highest  importance  in  the  attain 
ment  of  style.  Here,  too,  I  had  an  advantage 
over  others,  for  I  was  taught  Latin  as  a 
living  language,  when  a  mere  child,  in  Rome. 
Accuracy  in  scholarship  is  a  great  thing  in 
training  the  mind;  but  for  developing  the 
imagination  there  is  nothing  like  being  able  to 
read  easily  a  great  variety  of  works.  Classical 
reading  is  moreover  an  unfailing  resource.  It 
is  years  since  I  have  allowed  a  day  to  pass 
without  reading  a  few  pages  of  some  Latin  or 
Greek  author,  and  if  it  has  not  been  an  advan 
tage  to  me,  it  has  been  a  real  pleasure.  Out  of 
many  thousands  of  pages  of  the  best  literature 
the  world  ever  had,  something  should  remain 
with  the  reader,  some  clear  and  bright  impres 
sion  must  be  reflected  in  his  mind  and  bear 
fruit.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  learned  most 
of  the  languages  of  Europe,  and  some  of  those 
cf  Asia,  and  have  read  much  in  them  all ;  but 
I  am  of  opinion  that  the  best  literature, 
ancient  and  modern,  is  to  be  found  in  Greek, 
Latin,  and  English.  For  the  man  of  leisure, 
it  is  worth  while  to  learn  Italian  for  the  sake 
of  Dante,  Tasso,  Petrarch,  Ariosto,  and  perhaps 


ON  LITERARY  STYLE.  135 

Lcopardi.  A  man  who  has  much  time  at  his  F.  M 
disposal  may  overcome  the  great  difficulties  Cra™' 
of  the  German  language  in  order  to  read 
Goethe,  Heine,  Lessing,  Schiller,  and  half-a- 
dozen  others.  Time  spent  in  labouring  over 
the  obscurities  of  Kant  may  not  be  wholly  lost. 
Six  or  seven  years  of  unremitting  industry 
may  master  the  curious  intricacies  of  San 
skrit,  and  open  a  student's  eyes  to  the  beauties 
of  the  Vedas,  the  Mahabharata,  the  Ramayana, 
or  Kalidasa.  All  this  may  help  the  mind  to 
grow,  though  it  may  also  dwarf  the  imagina 
tion  and  turn  a  good  brain  into  a  mere 
reservoir  for  roots  and  terminations.  But  a 
partial  knowledge  of  a  dozen  literatures  is  not 
equal  in  real  effect  to  a  thorough  acquaintance 
with  Latin,  Greek,  and  one's  own  language. 
A  man  does  not  read  Sanskrit  in  order 
to  improve  his  style  in  English,  and  the 
best  things  are  translated,  so  that  he  may 
feed  his  imagination  upon  new  scenes  and 
novel  comparisons  and  metaphors  with 
out  wasting  valuable  time  in  acquir 
ing  the  vocabularies  and  learning  the 
paradigms  of  a  tongue  he  will  never  either 
speak  or  write. 
10 


136  THE   INFLUENCE  OF  READING 

F.  M.  "But  any  one  who  means  to  make  a  career 

Craw-       of  literature  must  read  widely  and  must  write 
much.    He  must  learn  what  other  people  mean 
by  their  words,  and  must  use  his  own  words 
in   such  a  way  as  to  mean  something.     If  he 
has  a  facility  for  rhyme,  let  him  by  all  means 
write  verses,   provided    he   does   not    publish 
them,  and  when  they  are  written,  let  him  make 
sure  that  every  word  has  a  meaning,  and  can 
also  be  construed.     I  say  rhyme,  because  only 
the  very  greatest  poets  can  write  blank  verse. 
But  in  all  cases,  whether  in  prose  or  poetry, 
let  the  writer  be  quite  sure  of  what  he  intends 
to  say  before  putting  pen  to  paper.     There  is, 
I  believe,  no  greater  fallacy  than  trusting  to 
inspiration,   except   that   of  believing   that   a 
certain  mood  is  necessary  for  writing.     Ninety- 
nine  hundredths   of  the  best  literary  work  is 
done  by  men  who  write  to  live,  who  know  that 
they  must  write,  and  who  so  write,  whether 
the  weather  is  fine  or  rainy,  whether  they  like 
their  breakfast  or  riot,  whether  they  are  hot  or 
cold,  whether  they  are  in  love,  happily  or  un 
happily,  with  women  or  with  themselves.     Of 
course,  a   man  who  has  lived  by  his  pen  for 
years,   frids  out  by  experience   the  hours  for 


ON  LITERARY   STYLE.  137 

working  which  suit  him  best ;  but  a  beginner  j?  j/- 
should  be   methodical.     He   should    go  to  his   Craw- 
desk  as  any  other  workman  goes  to  his  work,   *or  ' 
after  breakfast ;  rest  and  eat  in  the  middle  of 
the  day,  and  work  again  in  the  afternoon.     He 
should  never  begin  by  writing  at  night,  unless 
he  is  obliged  to  do  so.   He  will,  of  course,  often 
sit   at    the    table   an   hour   or    more   without 
writing   a   word,    but   if   he   will    only   think 
conscientiously  of  what  he  meant   to   do,  he 
will  find  the  way  to  do  it.     The  evening  is  the 
time  to   read,  and  the  night  is  the    time   to 
sleep.    A    literary  man    should  take  exercise, 
but  no  more  than  is  necessary  for  health.     Ifc 
is  vastly  better  for  the  brain  to  rest  too  little 
than  to  practise   athletics    too   much.     Hard 
rowing,  excessive  walking  and  running,  exhaust 
the  brain  as  much  as  the  body.     I  speak  with 
knowledge,  for  I  have  done  more  physical  work 
than  most  men   in  my   time,   and   I    do  not 
believe   it   ever   did  me   any   good.     All    this 
sounds   very  small,   and    yet    it  has  a    great 
importance.     Athletics    have    been    overdone 
in  our  day,  and  moderation  in  all    things    is 
disagreeable,  and  sounds  tame  to  strong  men. 
A  man  would  perhaps  prolong  his  life  by  living 


138  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  READING 

p  M.        like  a  ploughman,  but  he  would  not  develop 

Craw-       his  intelligence. 

*ot  "You  will  probably  ask  me  about  my  ideas 

concerning  English  literature.  The  greatest 
literary  production  in  our  language  is  the 
translation  of  the  Bible,  and  the  more  a  man 
reads  it  the  better  he  will  write  English.  It 
contains  more  good  strong  words,  more  ideas 
and  better  grammar,  than  any  book  with 
which  I  am  acquainted.  I  am  not  a  par 
ticularly  devout  person,  though  I  am  a  good 
Koman  Catholic,  and  I  do  not  recommend 
the  Bible  from  any  religious  reason.  I 
distinctly  dislike  the  practice  of  learning  texts 9 
without  any  regard  to  the  context,  merely  as 
maxims,  and  I  dislike  the  quoting  of  them 
even  more.  But  if  we  were  English  Brahmans, 
and  believed  nothing  contained  therein,  I 
should  still  maintain  that  the  Bible  should  be 
the  first  study  for  a  literary  man.  Then  the 
great  poets,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Pope,  and 
the  rest.  For  my  part  I  do  not  like  Words 
worth.  He  was  certainly  the  least  inspired 
of  the  great  poets.  I  have  read  him,  however, 
as  a  matter  of  duty.  Shakespeare  above  all  is 
important.  I  abhor  this  hundred-book  talk  in 


ON  LITEBAEY  STYLE.  139 

the  newspapers    and    magazines.     A    literary  j?  M. 
man  should  read  thousands  of  books,  and  any  Craw- 
other  person  had  better  read  what  pleases  him  * 
best,  or  what  bears  most  upon  his  profession, 
if  he  has  one.     A  course  of  Walter  Scott  does 
more     good     than      much      pottering,      and 
Macaulay's     works,    read    sceptically    if   you 
please,  will  form  a  better  style  and  a  better 
intelligence    than     man}'     scattered    extracts 
from  a  long  list  of  writers.     There  are  certain 
great  works,  like  the  Bible  and  Shakespeare, 
which  cannot  be  read   too  often.     There    are 
others  which  should  be  read,  but  for  which  a 
couple  of  evenings  ought  to  be  enough. 

"  My  last  word  must  be  the  same  as  in  all 
other  questions  of  success,  the  hardest  word 
of  all  for  people  of  imagination — work.  Liter 
ature  is  a  laborious  profession  ;  the  competition 
is  enormous  ;  the  progress  of  the  beginner  slow. 
But  it  is  a  good  profession  and  may  be  made  a 
noble  one ;  the  prizes  are  great  and  many  too  ; 
the  glory,  once  in  a  century,  undying.  We  do 
not  know  who  that  one  famous  man  will  be, 
but  we  do  positively  know  that  he  will  be  one 
who  has  worked  harder  than  most  of  his  fellows. 
Hard  work  is  not  the  whole  secret,  but  it  is 


140  THE   INFLUENCE   OF   READING- 

j?  j/.       half  of  it,  at  all  events,  and  a  half  that  lies 

Craw-       jn  every  man's  power." 
ford. 

Justin  JUSTIN  M'CARTHY,  the  historian,   novelist, 

M'Car-  and  statesman,  is  an  author  whose  work  is 
eminently  readable  by  reason  of  its  pic 
turesque  and  attractive  style.  He  says, 
"  I  was  always,  from  my  childhood,  fond  of 
reading,  and  I  took  very  early  to  the  great 
masters  of  English — to  Shakespeare,  and  all 
the  Elizabethan  dramatists ;  to  Addison  and 
Steele;  to  Johnson  and  Burke.  I  loved 
Shakespeare,  somehow,  before  I  could  possibly 
have  understood  half  his  plots  ;  and  I  found 
myself  revelling  in  some  of  Burke' s  writings 
at  a  time  when  I  hardly  knew  what  he  was 
writing  about.  I  also  loved  the  Greek  and 
Roman  classics,  and  could,  when  a  mere  boy 
of  ten  or  twelve,  read  Greek  and  Latin  with  a 
fearful  fluency,  which  I  look  back  to  now  with 
a  certain  envy,  when  I  find  that  I  have  to  go  at 
a  slow  pace  through  a  page  of  Sophocles,  and 
like  to  take  my  time  over  Lucretius.  But 
I  never  studied  composition.  Early  in  life  it 
fell  to  my.  lot  unexpectedly  to  have  to  make  a 
living  for  myself  and  others  ;  and  I  soon  tried 


ON  LITERARY    STYLE.  141 

writing  ;  and  you  are  kind  enough  to  say  I  have  Justin 
not  altogether  failed."  ^ 

"  I  suppose  reading  and   writing  come  hy  Andrew 
nature,"  writes  ANDREW  LANG;  "certainly  I     afl^' 
never  tried  to  acquire  any  particular  skill  be 
yond  doing  composition  and  translation  from 
Greek  and  Latin.     But  I  am  very  glad  that 
this  unpremeditated  art  has  been  lucky  enough 
to  please  you.  For  the  rest,  I  think  Thackeray, 
Fielding,  and  Swift  are  about  the  best  modern 
English  authors  for  a  young  person  to  read,  so 
far  as  manner  goes." 


A.  W.  KINGLAKE,  the  historian  of  the 
Crimean  War,  says  :  "  I  never  learnt  English 
grammar  ;  but  the  five  or  six  years  of  Eton 
discipline,  with  enforced  composition  in  Latin, 
may  have  afterwards  helped  me  when  writing 
in  my  native  tongue.  I  remember  once  laugh 
ing  at  that  Eton  part  of  my  education,  when 
Thackeray  interposed,  saying,  '  It  has  made 
you  what  you  are.'  ' 


GRANT   ALLEN,  the  author  of  a  few  most  Grant 
readable  novels  and  several  popular  scientific        en% 


142  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  READING 

Grant       works,  says  :  "  For  style,  I  attach  much  impor- 
Ailen.        tance   to  the   average   classical  education.     I 
was  first  in  Mod.s  at  Oxford,  and  afterwards 
Composition  Master  at  several  public  schools. 
Latin  verse  and  prose,  and  careful  translation 
from   the    classics,   necessitate   much   picking 
and  choosing  of  words,  much  minute  attention 
to  phrase  and  location.    Then  I  wrote  scientific 
articles,  and  as  these,  though  on  dry  subjects, 
were  meant  to  be  popular,  this  taught  me  the 
art  of  looking  out  deliberately  for  the  most 
graphic  and  interesting  ways  of  putting  things. 
I  have  also,  of  course,   dabbled   in  English 
verse.     I  never  write  even  a  newspaper  article 
now  without  going  over  it  three  or  four  times, 
looking   for   faults,   strengthening    sentences, 
substituting    strong    or    vivid   adjectives    for 
weak  ones,  and  putting  picturesque  verbs  in 
the  place  of  the  verb  '  to  be,'  and  other  feeble 
nesses.      I    go    over    separately    for    various 
specific  defects,  and  last  of  all  satisfy  my  ear 
as    to    the    ring    of   each   separate   sentence. 
Labour — incessant  labour,  gives  the   appear 
ance  of  ease." 

WESTLAND    MAESTON,  the    dramatist    and 


ON  LITERARY   STYLE.  143 

poet,  writes :  "I  was  from  boyhood  a  great  W. 
reader.  In  classics  I  was  very  conversant  with  Marston. 
Homer,  ^Eschylus,  and  Sophocles,  also  with 
Virgil  and  Ovid.  I  did  not  then  relish  Horace 
so  much  as  I  have  done  in  maturerlife.  About 
twelve  years  of  age  I  knew  much  of  Shake 
speare  by  heart.  '  Don  Quixote  '  and  '  The 
Arabian  Nights'  afforded  me  intense  delight,  as 
did  also  the  Waverley  Novels.  A  year  or  two 
later  I  began  to  appreciate  Milton,  and  I  also 
then  found  rare  pleasure  in  the  speeches  of 
great  English  orators,  of  Burke  in  particular  ; 
in  the  writings  and  sermons  of  great  divines,  of 
Jeremy  Taylor,  and  in  our  own  day,  of  Chal  - 
mers,  Canon  Melvill,  Kobert  Hall,  &c.  What 
style  I  have  has  undoubtedly  been  fostered  and 
developed  by  this  wide  reading.  As  to  com 
position,  the  chief  rules  I  have  laid  down  for 
myself  are  to  avoid  superfluous  expressions, 
to  choose  epithets  carefully  and  use  them 
sparingly,  and  to  frame  sentences  neither  so 
long  as  to  be  cumbrous,  nor  so  short  as  to 
destroy  continuity." 

HERMAN  MERIVALE  is  perhaps  best  known  H. 

as  one  of  our  most  popular  living  dramatists,  Men- 

vale. 


144  THE   INFLUENCE    OF  BEADING 

H,  but  he  is  also  a  very  true  and   genuine  poet, 

Men-  an(j  a  prose  writer  who  always  wields  a  grace 
ful  and  facile  pen.  He  says  :  "  Keally,  I  hardly 
know.  You  credit  me,  rightly  or  wrongly,  with 
what  I  value  most,  a  knowledge  of  my  beloved 
English.  If  I  possess  it,  I  owe  it  first  to  the 
despised  classics,  to  a  loving  acquaintance  with 
Homer  and  Herodotus,  with  Sophocles  and 
Aristophanes,  with  Horace  and  Juvenal — and 
so  may  it  be !  If  I  might  venture  to  quarrel 
with  the  inevitable  classical  teaching,  it  would 
be  with  the  hard-and-fast  line  which  forces  a 
classical  scholar  to  read  his  Aristotle  and 
Thucydides  when  the  first  is  to  him  a  crabbed 
and  awkward  philosopher,  the  second  an 
unintelligible  historian  who  didn't  know  any 
thing  of  his  own  beautiful  language.  Plato  is 
exquisite,  and  so  is  Herodotus,  though  we  may 
believe  in  neither — clear,  manly,  and  straight 
forward.  But  my  first  literary  love  I  owe  to 
such  classics  as  I  could  love  and  understand- 
When  such  classics  die,  English  or  any 
other  scholarship — the  opposite  to  that 
humbug  '  culture ' — dies  with  it,  in  my 
poor  opinion.  And  I  fear  that,  thanks 
mainly  to  '  science,' — that  wisdom  of  man 


ON  LITERAEY   STYLE.  145 

which  is  foolishness  with  God — it   is  dying,  H. 

and  very  fast.  Merrt' 

vale, 
"  Secondly,  English.     I  was  nursed  and  bred 

by  my  dear,  great  father,  and  by  natural  taste 
on     my     Bible,     Shakespeare,      Scott,     and 
Macaulay,  &c. ;  on  the  big  men  who  thought 
and  said  big  things  (in  details  right  or  wrong), 
and  in  the  big,  straight  English  of  the  greater 
ages.     *  Man's  life  was  spacious  in  the  early 
world,'  says  a  great  English   writer,   George 
Eliot,   in   *  Jubal.'      Give  me  after  that   the 
*  masters,'  whatever  the  form  may.  be — Bacon, 
Lamb,   De  Quincey,   Thackeray.     In   present 
days,  '  John  Inglesant/  and  to  me,  none  other. 
The  '  one  hundred  books '  of  Sir  J.  Lubbock 
are  to  me,  stuff.     A  man  is  a  scholar  (dear  old 
lost  word  !)  if  he  thoroughly  knows  one,  and 
that   a  good   one.      Nobody    ever    knew   one 
hundred.     Life  is  short,  and  the  thing  cannot 
be   done.     Familiarity  with   any   one    foreign 
language  is  a  great  addition,  and  one  is  all  any 
man  can  grasp .     I  do  read  French — the  best, 
because  the  clearest  in  style  and  expression — 
as  easily  as  English.     French  is  the  foundation 
of  modern  style  and  thought  (the  good  French, 
not  Zola),  and  study  is  studiless  without  it." 


146  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  READING 

j.  H.  J.    H.    SHOETHOUSE,    the    author    of   that 

Short-       splendid   book  "  John   Inglesant,"  a  romance 
remarkable    for   its     finish,    refinement,    and 
chivalric  spirit,  is  a  writer  whose  literary  work 
is  always  marked  by  purity,  nobility,  loftiness 
of  purpose,  and  deep  spiritual  suggestiveness. 
"  My  interest  in  English  literature  began  very 
early,"  he  says,  "  as  my  mother,  who  was  an 
excellent  reader,  spared  no  time  or  pains  in 
reading  to  us,  as  soon  as  we  could  understand 
them,  any  of  the  best  writers  wrho  she  thought 
would  be  likely  to  entertain  and  improve  us. 
In  this  way  we  were  familiar  when  very  little 
boys  with  the  best  parts  of  Sterne,  Addison, 
Johnson,  Cowper,   Mary  Howitt,  Mrs.    Sher 
wood,   &c.     My  father  was   also    a    man    of 
cultivated  literary   tastes.     I   do   not  suppose 
that  it  is  easy  to  over-estimate  the  influence  of 
early  training  and  heredity  in  this  matter.     My 
father  took  me  from  school  early,  about  sixteen, 
and  I  had  ample  leisure,  and  tutors  with  whom 
I  read  French  and  Italian,  besides  keeping  up 
some  of  IAY  Latin  and  Greek.     My  father  had 
a  considerable  library,  and  I  had  ample  means 
of  purchasing  books,  and  became  very  early 
interested  in  seventeenth-century  English.     I 


ON  LITERARY  STYLE.  147 

mention  this  because  I  am  convinced  that  jm  jy 
seventeenth-century  English — that  of  Jeremy  Short- 
Taylor,  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  Milton,  and  house' 
many  others — is  the  foundation  of  a  nervous, 
subtle,  fruitful  style,  resembling  in  graphic 
fulness  of  thought  the  German  more  than 
any  other.  It  requires  toning  down,  but 
taken  in  conjunction  with  the  study  of 
the  eighteenth-century  English,  I  do  not 
know  that  more  is  wanted.  In  the  way  of 
general  advice,  I  can  only  suggest  the  taking  of 
infinite  pains,  and  the  avoiding,  like  the  plague, 
any  attempts  at  affectation,  or  the  use  of  vulgar, 
colloquial,  penny-a-liner,  or  what  are  supposed 
to  be  humorous,  phrases.  I  would  allow  very 
great  latitude  in  the  use  of  words.  Your 
instinct  and  taste  must  be  your  guide  in  this. 
But,  above  everything,  strive  to  form  every 
sentence  so  as  to  express  your  meaning  in 
the  simplest  way,  and  in  accordance  with  the 
easiest,  plainest  rules  of  English  grammar.  I 
am  not  afraid  of  a  picturesque  style,  or  what  is 
called  fine  writing,  provided  you  get  both 
grammar  and  sense." 

^ 

The  author  of  "  John  Herring"— S.  BARING-  ^Baring- 
Gould. 


148  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  READING 

5.  GOULD — writes  :  "  I  hardly  know  myself  what 

Baring-     has  been  pre-eminent  in  my  apprenticeship  in 
literature.    I  began  to  write  when  quite  a  child, 
and  always  had  a  turn  for  letters.     Having 
ever  been  a  great  reader  in  all  departments,  it 
has  led  to  a  discrimination  in  style  between 
good,   bad,    and    indifferent.     My   natural  in 
clination  is  towards  archaeology  and  history. 
I   have   been   driven   to  take   to   fiction,   be 
cause  fiction  alone  pays ;  but  I  never  have  been 
a  novel   reader.     Indeed,  I  dislike  reading  a 
novel.     I  turn  from  one  with  distaste,  as  a 
pastrycook  from  tarts.     Having  spent  most  of 
my  youth  s,broad  in  France  and  Germany,  I 
am  able  to  read  and  converse  in  French  and 
German  without  difficulty,  and  I  can  manage 
to  read  without  difficulty  Icelandic,  Swedish, 
Danish,  Italian  and  Spanish — all  that  sort  of 
thing  is  mere  knack  after  one  knows  the  key 
languages,  early  Norse,  German  and  Latin.     I 
fancy  that  the  best  training  for  writing  good 
English  is  the  reading  and  copying  out  of  long 
passages  from  the  old  masters.     I  think  French 
helps   to   train  to  think    and  express  oneself 
compactly,    and    that   German    is  a    caution 
against  involution  of  sentences." 


ON   LITERARY   STYLE.  149 

Even  wJiere  a  man  has  no  classical  training, 
or  but  little,  even  where  he  has  no  knowledge 
of  modern  languages,  or  but  little,  I  believe 
that  it  is  quite  possible  for  him,  if  he  deter 
mines  to  do  so,  to  acquire  an  efficient  style  of 
composition.  What  others  have  done  he  may 
surely  accomplish  in  the  measure  of  his  ability 
and  industry.  To  clothe  his  thoughts  in 
appropriate  words,  to  express  himself  in  a 
manner  interesting  and  agreeable  to  others,  is 
within  the  reach  of  any  man's  possibility,  if 
only  he  will  give  the  necessary  time  and  labour. 
But  the  difficulty  with  so  many  aspirants  after 
literary  honour  is,  that  they  get  the  form  of 
knowledge  without  the  power,  the  dead  shell 
with  no  living  kernel,  and  are  satisfied  with 
what  they  get.  They  forget  that  thought 
divorced  from  life,  learning  not  verified  by 
experience,  culture  not  tending  to  action,  has 
never  yet  created  and  sustained  a  true  literary 
development.  Truth  seen  only  with  the  eye  is 
at  best  superficial  and  unreal.  Authors  who 
win  a  lasting  reputation  are  not  simply  content 
with  observing  facts  and  reporting  them  ;  they 
are  those  who  enter  into  life,  bear  its  burdens, 
penetrate  its  meaning,  passionately  seeking 


150  THE  INFLUENCE   OF  BEADING 

what  lies  at  the  heart  of  it ;  and  so  make 
their  work  a  service  to  the  literature  of  the  age, 
by  making  it  true  to  the  everlasting  realities 
of  human  nature  and  experience.  As  Lord 
Bacon  says,  "  If  you  will  have  a  tree  bear 
more  fruit,  it  is  not  accomplished  by  what 
you  do  to  the  boughs ;  but  the  stirring  of 
the  earth  round  the  roots,  and  putting  new 
mould  there,  that  must  work  it."  It  is  the 
radical  and  profound  study  which  goes  to  the 
roots  of  things,  and  is  not  satisfied  with 
merely  rilling  the  mind  with  words  and  phrases, 
that  Ben  Jonson  refers  to  when  he  says  of 
Shakespeare — 

His  learning  savours  not  the  school-like  gloss 
That  most  consists  in  echoing  words  and  terms, 
And  soonest  wins  a  man  an  empty  name, 
But  of  a  poesy  all  rammed  with  life. 

C.  G.  CHEISTINA  G.  KOSSETTI,  perhaps  foremost 

Rossettt.  ainollg  living  poetesses,  who  writes  with  a 
delightful  grace  and  simplicity  which  charm  us 
without  making  us  stop  to  think  we  are  being 
charmed,  may  speak  to  us  with  appropriate 
ness  at  this  point.  Referring  to  her  brother, 
Dante  Gabriel,  renowned  both  as  poet  and 
artist,  she  says  :  "  His  Latin  and  Greek  were 


ON  LITEKAEY   STYLE.  151 

those  of  a  schoolboy,  who,  moreover,  left  c.  G. 
school — King's  College — early  to  commence  Rosseth. 
training  as  an  artist.  His  Latin,  I  fancy,  was 
available  in  after  life,  his  Greek  not  worth  a 
mention.  As  to  living  languages,  he  was 
familiar  with  Italian  and  French,  and  not 
quite  ignorant  of  German.  As  he  never 
visited  Italy,  I  surmise  that  his  Italian  was 
literary  rather  than  colloquial."  Of  her  own 
work,  Miss  Kossetti  says,  "  It  happens  that  my 
style  resulted  not  from  purposed  training,  so 
much  as  from  what  I  may  call  hereditary 
literary  bias,  and  from  constant  association 
with  my  clever  and  well-read  parents.  Neither 
nursery  nor  schoolroom  secluded  their  children 
from  them  ;  indeed,  our  household  was  too 
small  for  any  such  separate  system;  and 
though  my  sister  and  my  two  brothers  studied 
more  or  less,  of  myself  it  may  be  said  that  I 
picked  up  more  than  I  learned.  I  do  net 
recollect  that  I  was  ever  exercised  in  English 
composition  as  a  task,  though  to  all  of  us  it 
early  became  more  or  less  a  delight.  Perhaps 
the  nearest  approach  to  a  method  I  can  lay 
claim  to  was  a  distinct  aim  at  conciseness. 
After  a  while  I  received  a  hint  from  my  sister 
11 


152  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  BEADING 

C.  G.  that  my  love  of  conciseness  tended  to  make 
Rossetti,  my  writing  obscure,  and  I  then  endeavoured 
to  avoid  obscurity  as  well  as  diffuseness.  In 
poetics  my  elder  brother  was  my  acute  and 
most  helpful  critic,  and  both  prose  and  verse 
I  used  to  read  aloud  to  my  dearest  mother 
and  my  sister." 

Edna  EDNA  LYALL,  the    nom    de    guerre    under 

Lyal1'  which  Miss  Ada  Ellen  Bayly  writes,  is  the 
author  of  several  powerful  stories,  admirably 
written,  and  revealing  an  individuality  both 
striking  and  unconventional.  Their  tone  is 
pure  and  lofty,  their  purpose  wisely  moral, 
and  their  composition  always  graceful,  and 
sometimes  rising  to  genuine  and  vivid  power. 
They  can  heartily  be  recommended  to  young 
people,  not  only  as  samples  of  good  style, 
but  also  as  books  which  cannot  fail  to  exert 
an  ennobling  influence  upon  the  reader's  heart 
and  mind.  She  writes,  "  I  find  it  rather 
difficult  to  reply  to  your  letter  as  I  have 
hardly  any  regular  rules  as  to  writing.  I 
never  went  through  any  special  training,  but 
had  a  good  education  of  the  ordinary  kind, 
sometimes  with  governesses,  sometimes  at 


ON  LITEEABY  STYLE.  153 

schools.  I  have  always  meant  to  write  since  Edna 
I  was  nine  or  ten  years  old,  and  so  used  to  Lyall. 
take  special  interest  in  everything  that  could 
help  me  in  that  way,  except  in  Allen  and 
Cornwall's  Grammar  and  Morrell's  Analysis, 
which  I  cordially  detested,  and  to  this  very 
day  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  rely  more  upon  my 
ear  than  upon  the  rules  of  grammar.  An 
aunt  of  mine  who  read  your  letter,  tells  me  I 
was  very  much  interested  in  a  volume  of 
Blair's  lectures  at  twelve  years  old,  specially  in 
what  he  said  about  style,  but  I  cannot  say  I 
remember  anything  about  them  now.  Being 
educated  for  three  years  with  a  cousin  older 
than  myself,  I  read  a  good  many  books  at 
that  time  which  must  have  been  far  beyond 
my  powers,  such  as  Paley  and  Abercrombie. 
We  were  always  expected  on  Sundays  to  take 
notes  of  the  sermons  we  heard.  I  think,  per 
haps  that  was  a  good  training.  My  mother 
also  always  encouraged  us  to  make  extracts 
out  of  any  book  that  we  specially  liked,  and 
I  fancy  the  habit  is  a  very  good  one,  and 
teaches  children  to  keep  their  eyes  open  for 
what  is  really  beautiful. 

"As   to   rules   in   writing,  I   hardly    know 


154  THE   INFLUENCE   OF    READING 

Edna  what  to  say.  Whenever  I  am  in  doubt  about 
Lyall.  a  sentonce  j  rea(j  ft  aloud  to  see  how  it 
sounds,  and  indeed,  always  read  the  whole  book 
through  aloud,  sometimes  more  than  once,  be 
fore  it  goes  to  the  press.  In  describing  things, 
I  always  try  to  see  the  whole  scene  before 
beginning  to  write  it,  and  specially  to  realise 
the  colour  of  everything.  I  think  it  is  also  a 
good  plan  never  to  use  a  long  word  when  a 
short  word  will  do,  and  to  cure  oneself  as 
far  as  possible  of  a  trick  common  to  almost 
every  one,  of  using  four  or  five  adjectives 
before  a  noun.  For  the  rest,  I  think  the  only 
way  is  to  have  something  to  say,  and  then  to 
say  it  as  simply  and  straightforwardly  as  you 
can.  I  fancy  it  is  good  to  read  well-written 
books  aloud  to  children.  All  Scott's  novels 
were  read  to  us,  and  some  of  Miss  Austen's 
and  Miss  Edgeworth's.  We  were  also  allowed 
to  have  Miss  Yonge's  novels  when  we 
were  ten  or  eleven,  and  read  them  again 
and  again  till  we  almost  knew  them  by 
heart.  After  all,  the  great  thing  is  con 
tinual  practice,  and  continual  patience,  and 
a  readiness  to  have  your  faults  pointed  out 
to  you." 


ON  LITERARY   STYLE.  155 

E.  LYNN  LINTON,  the  author  of  many  novels  Mrs. 
attractive  and  interesting  for  their  vividly-  E-  L. 
sketched  characters  and  the  unflagging  anima 
tion  of  the  narrative,  and  also  of  a  large 
number  of  popular  essays  always  marked  by 
careful  writing  and  strong  common  sense,  says 
of  herself:  "  When  I  first  began  to  write  I 
had  no  notion  of  style.  If  I  could  get  the 
elemental  principles  of  grammar  right  that 
was  all  I  thought  of.  Of  grace,  construction, 
eloquence,  conscious  word-manipulation  I  had 
not  an  idea.  I  remember  the  wakening  to  the 
sense  of  style  came  to  me  from  this  one  phrase, 
*  the  solemn  charity '  with  which  one  speaks  of 
the  dead.  That  'solemn  charity'  was  a  ray 
of  inspiration  to  me  !  It  came  to  me  as  such 
a  fine  expression  !  After  that  I  began  to  con 
sider  turns  of  phrase  and  the  dignity  of  words ; 
and  now  I  am  almost  a  faddist  for  purity  and 
correctness.  In  early  life  I  had  all  my  own  train 
ing  to  do,  as  we  had  no  regular  or  irregular  in 
struction.  I  taught  myself  languages  as  the  best 
weapon  I  knew  of,  for  I  had  resolved  to  be  an 
authoress  when  I  found  that  my  short-sighted 
ness  hindered  my  being  an  artist ;  but  the 
style  came  only  by  very  long  study  and  obser- 


156  THE   INFLUENCE    OF   BEADING 

Mrs.  vation,  and  keeping  myself  open  to  every  kind 
E-.  L-  of  criticism.  My  early  books  are  full  to  the 
margin  of  defective  formations.  I  think  the 
later  ones  are  freer ;  but  my  first  thought  is 
always  ungrammatical  (most  of  my  letters  are 
badly  expressed),  which  necessitates  laborious 
revision  of  the  MS.  I  know  no  better  method 
of  improving  the  style  than  that  of  reading  good 
authors  simply  for  the  sake  of  their  method  ; 
analysing,  studying,  getting  to  the  heart  of  their 
power.  Read  a  master,  and  then  a  very  poor 
beginner,  and  the  difference  will  be  seen  at 
once.  The  beginner  who  says,  *  Commence, 
conclude,  progress,  different  to,  under  circum 
stances,  averse  to,'  who  is  loftily  disregardful 
of  nominatives,  who  makes  a  singular  verb 
govern  clauses  of  varying  number,  who  is 
frightened  of  and  has  no  nerves  in  his  own 
language — he  is  a  good  sign-post,  showing  the 
way  not  to  go,  like  those  old  spelling  books 
which  gave  faulty  spelling  as  a  lesson.  But 
one  is  always  learning  !  Owing  to  my  defective 
ground-work  of  education  I  am  always  finding 
out  some  new  error  of  style  or  syntax  of  which 
I  am  habitually  guilty.  One  thing,  however,  I 
do  strive  against— dislocation  of  sentences.  I 


ON   LITERARY   STYLE.'  157 

try  to  write  sequentially,  and  not  to  put  the 

natural  sequence  into  a  dislocated  part  of  the  E\  •£• 

.  ,  .       .  T  T   Linton. 

phrase,  as  for  example,    '  I  am  not   going,  I 

don't  think.'  How  many  people  form  their 
sentences  in  this  manner,  and  how  often  one 
wishes  to  be  able  to  pull  the  separated  parts 
together !  " 

Miss  EOSA  N.  CAREY  has  had  no  special  Miss  JR. 
training  for  her  literary  work,  and  has  used  no  '  arey' 
particular  method.  "  In  my  opinion,"  she 
says,  "  it  is  the  greatest  help  in  composition  to 
read  the  works  of  our  best  authors,  as  their 
style  exercises  an  unconscious  influence,  and 
one  learns  to  appreciate  the  best.  It  was  my 
habit  as  a  girl  to  tell  stories  to  a  younger 
sister  ;  one  of  these — '  Nellie's  Memories  ' — so 
took  possession  of  my  imagination  that  after 
some  years  I  resolved  to  work  it  out.  The 
characters  had  lived  with  me  so  long  that 
they  had  become  almost  my  personal  friends. 
In  my  succeeding  books  I  have  thought  less  of 
the  interest  of  the  plot  than  of  the  development 
of  character,  and  the  workings  of  human  nature 
under  ordinary  circumstances."  Miss  Carey's 
novels  are  full  of  strength  and  tenderness. 


158  THE   INFLUENCE   OF   HEADING 

Mrs.  C.  "All  my  life  I  have  lived  with  cultured 
Riddel/,  persons  who  spoke  good  English,"  says  Mrs. 
CHARLOTTE  BIDDELL,  the  novelist  who  at  one 
time  wrote  under  the  nom  de  guerre  of  F.  G. 
Trafford.  "  Further,  I  had  the  enormous  ad 
vantage  of  bei.ug  turned  loose  while  very 
young  into  a  big  library,  where  I  grazed  with 
out  let  or  hindrance.  If  there  were  any  weeds 
there,  they  did  me  no  harm.  I  never  knew 
there  were  any.  Next,  mine  has  been,  not  a 
sorrowful  life,  but  a  life  of  sorrow,  and  sorrow 
teaches  reticence ;  so  perhaps  trouble  may 
have  given  me  a  little  strength  of  expression. 
I  am  afraid  to  quote,  but  I  think  it  was 
Macaulay  who  said,  '  The  Bible  and  Shake 
speare  are  sufficient  to  form  the  best  style,' 
and  I  quite  agree  with  this.  Were  I  advising 
a  would-be  author,  I  should  say,  Eead  good 
books ;  never  use  a  long  word  when  a  short 
one  will  serve ;  avoid  slang  like  a  pestilence, 
and  always  write  your  very  best,  feeling  you 
have  an  audience  higher  than  any  public — 
which  is  GOD.  ...  I  fancy  I  omitted  to 
repeat  one  piece  of  advice  which  was  given  to 
me  very  early  in  my  London  experience  by 
a  gentleman  connected  with  The  Saturday 


ON  LITERARY  STYLE.  159 

Review  in  its  most  brilliant  days,  viz.,  '  Put  no  jyrs  £ 
check  on  your  pen  while  writing,  but  blot  Xiddell. 
freely  afterwards.' ' 

Another  lady  novelist,  Mrs.  EMILY  LOVETT  Mrs.  E. 

CAMERON,   bears  similar  testimony.      "  I   am        taw- 

J  eron. 

afraid  that  I  can  lay  claim  to  no  special  system 

or  training  in  style  of   composition,   save    a 
natural  inclination  towards  '  scribbling/  and  a 
dangerous  affection  for  pen  arid  ink.     But  I  do 
think  that  a  study  of  the  best  standard  works 
of  fiction  is  the  greatest  help  a  novel  writer 
can  have  towards  the  improvement  of  style. 
I  have  always  considered  Trollope's  books  quite 
perfect   as  regards  grammatical  English,  and 
Jane   Austen's  delineations   of  character  and 
refinement  of  feeling  have  long  been  my  beau 
ideal    of    all    that    is    good     in     authorship. 
Whenever  I  have  the  time  I  refresh  my  mind 
by  the  study  of  these  and  other  great  writers, 
such   as   George  Eliot,   the    Brontes,   and   of 
living    writers,   Mrs.    Oliphant,   with    ardent 
admiration,  and  I  feel  sure  with  some  profit 
to  my  humble  self." 

Miss 
Still      another     lady     story- writer,      Miss  F.  M. 

Peard. 


160  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  BEADING 

Miss  FRANCES  M.  PEARD,  refers  to  the  influence  of 
F.  M.  good  reading  upon  literary  style.  "  Writing 
grew  out  of  a  wish  to  write,"  she  says,  "  and 
without  any  determination  to  make  it  a  pro 
fession.  From  the  time  when  I  was  a  very 
young  child  I  was  allowed  to  read  Scott, 
Shakespeare,  Spenser,  &c.,  with  absolute 
freedom  ;  and  perhaps  a  familiarity  with  such 
writers  teaches  even  a  child  to  feel,  if  uncon 
sciously,  the  difference  between  bad  and  good 
English.  Without  reaching  a  high  level  of 
style  oneself,  it  makes  one,  all  through  life, 
turn  away  from  what  is  inferior.  I  fancy  that, 
specially  when  one  is  writing  oneself,  it  is  well 
only  to  read  books  in  which  language  arid 
style  form  useful  models,  and  to  avoid  those 
with  mannerisms.  As  for  composition,  I  have 
as  little  to  say  as  with  regard  to  style.  My 
own  plan  is,  I  am  afraid,  too  vague.  I  get  a 
rough  general  idea  in  my  head,  but  I  find  I 
must  get  my  characters  alive  and  set  them 
going  before  I  can  be  clear  what  they  are  to 
do,  and  their  actions  are  not  what  I  at  first 
foresaw." 


R.  Bu-         EGBERT  BUCHANAN,  poet,  novelist,  dramatist, 
chanan. 


ON  LITERARY   STYLE.  101 

a  man  of  great  and  diversified  gifts,  writes :  "  If  R.  Bu- 
my  style  has  any  merit  it  is  due  to  the  early  chanan. 
study  of  English  dramatic  poetry,  particularly 
that  of   the   Elizabethan  period.     Up  to  the 
age  of  twenty,  a  man  thinks  of  style  alone, 
having  as  yet  nothing  to  say,  and  such  was 
my  case.     But  when  I  found  I  possessed  some 
thoughts    to     utter,    I     discovered    that    the 
English  poets  were  my  best  and  only  guides 
as  to  how  to  utter  them." 

WILLIAM  BLACK,  whose  early  stories,  pure,  William 
simple,  deeply-interesting,  and  nobly  written, 
are  favourites  custom  cannot  stale,  says :  "  In 
such  a  matter  I  shouldn't  imagine  that  the 
experience  of  any  one  person  would  be  of 
much  use  to  anybody  else.  If  young  people 
want  to  acquire  the  art  of  writing  English 
simply  and  naturally,  they  may  safely  be  re 
commended  the  masters  of  the  tongue — Tenny 
son  and  Thackeray  for  choice — and  also  inces 
sant  practice.  But  if  their  ambition  this  way 
is  connected  with  a  wish  to  enter  the  already 
overcrowded  ranks  of  the  literary  profession, 
then  it  would  be  the  truest  kindness  to  advise 
them  to  stay  where  they  are." 


162  THE   INFLUENCE    OF   READING 

Qm  M.  "  I  can    only    tell   you,"    writes    GEORGE 

Fenn.  MANVILLE  FENN,  "  that,  beyond  the  ordinary 
education  that  one  acquires  in  early  life,  I 
went  through  no  special  preparation  whatever, 
and  that  I  can  only  suppose  any  facility  I  may 
possess  in  composition  to  be  the  result  of 
constant  writing  out  the  ideas  that  have  more 
or  less  impressed  me  in  my  career.  Style  I 
take  to  be  naturally  acquired,  imperceptibly 
so  to  speak,  from  reading  largely  the  best 
works  of  our  best  men.  Pray  do  not  attribute 
the  following  to  egotism  and  conceit  when  I 
say  that  I  believe  the  power  is  innate,  just  as 
to  one  is  given  a  melodious  voice,  to  another  a 
handsome  personal  appearance,  to  another  the 
power  to  speak  in  public  forcibly  and  well. 
Of  course,  these  gifts  can  be  largely  developed, 
but  I  am  sure  that  the  germs  must  be  there, 
or  the  cultivation  would  be  a  sorry  affair.  In 
my  own  case  I  was,  as  a  boy,  thrown  very  much 
on  my  own  resources,  and  books  were,  I  may 
say,  iny  only  friends.  Consequently,  I  devoured 
everything  I  came  across,  good,  bad  and 
indifferent ;  but  still,  I  naturally  possessed  a 
great  love  of  reading.  ...  I  can  only  add 
that,  before  I  begin  to  write  a  book,  I  think 


ON   LITERARY  STYLE.  1G3 

over  it  for  some  time  pretty  deeply ;  try  to  Qt 
realise  and  individualise  my  characters,  and 
then,  after  making  voluminous  notes,  try  to 
put  myself  in  the  place  of  each  person  in  my 
story,  and  make  him  or  her  speak  and  think 
as  would  he  the  case  in  the  circumstances 
in  which  the  said  character  is  placed." 

JOSEPH  HATTON,  a  well-known  writer  of  very  Joseph 
versatile  power,  thinks  there  is  no  royal  road  -Hatton. 
to  the  formation  of  style  in  composition,  and 
that,  whatever  study  we  may  give  to  the  sub 
ject,  it  depends  upon  an  earnest  desire  to  write 
hecause  we  have  something  to  say.  "  You  are 
good  enough  to  compliment  me,"  he  says, 
"  on  my  apparently  easy  method  of  composi 
tion,  and  you  ask  me  for  the  secret  of  it,  and 
my  experiences  in  the  formation  of  the  art  of 
writing  well  and  picturesquely.  When  I  was 
very  young  I  was  a  great  reader  of  books  of 
travel,  and  the  novels  of  Defoe,  Smollett, 
Cooper,  Hugo,  and  Dickens.  My  father  was 
a  newspaper  proprietor.  When  I  had  resolved 
not  to  become  a  lawyer,  but  to  write  for  the 
newspaper  press,  or  for  any  other  press  that 
would  print  my  work,  I  read  Macaalay,  and 


104  THE  INFLUENCE   OF  READING 

Joseph  De  Quincey,  The  Times,  and  all  kinds  of  descrip- 
Hatton.  tive  articles,  for  the  purposes  of  journalistic 
style.  Having  mastered  what  seemed  to  me  to 
be  the  secret  of  Macaulay's  simplicity  and 
strength,  I  invariably  kept  him  in  mind  when 
I  was  engaged  upon  an  essay,  journalistic  or 
otherwise,  and  I  think  De  Quincey  influenced 
me  in  the  construction  of  sentences,  and  in 
the  arrangement  of  my  facts  and  ideas.  The 
chief  secret  of  Macaulay's  style,  I  believe,  lies 
in  setting  forth  in  every  sentence  either  a  fact 
or  an  idea.  The  most  delightful  examples  of 
literary  method  are  to  be  found  in  the 
'  tremendous  opposites  ' :  Addison,  Carlyle  ; 
Dryden,  Emerson;  Hume,  Kuskin;  Haw 
thorne,  and  Thackeray. 

"  You  ask  me  what  is  the  best  way  to  form 
a  good  literary  style.  Read  the  best  authors, 
not  only  for  themselves,  but  for  the  purpose 
of  trying  to  understand  their  methods  of 
composition ;  fill  yourself  with  knowledge ; 
observe  men  and  things;  read  the  newspapers; 
travel ;  form  your  own  opinions  of  the  world 
and  its  doings.  When  you  write  be  sure  you 
have  something  to  say,  something  worth 
describing,  some  opinion  worth  expressing. 


ON  LITERACY  STYLE.  165 

Before  you  sit  down  make  up  your  mind  what  Joseph 
you  are  going  to  write,  and  then  set  forth  your 
views,  your  experiences,  o^our  opinions  in  the 
simplest   and  most  direct  language  you    can 
command.     If   you  have  individuality  of  cha 
racter  striking  enough  to  make  itself  felt  in 
any  direction,  it  will  come  out  in  your  work. 
When  you  have  had  sufficient  practice  to  have 
mastered  the  habit  of    composition     and    to 
express     your  ideas,  you  will   find  you  have 
formed  a  characteristic  style  of  your  own,  and 
that  writing  will  soon  become  for  you  a  mere 
question   of  having    something   to    say.     But 
always  remember  that  next  to  the  importance 
of  your   matter    is    the  consideration  of   the 
artistic  method  of  placing  it  before  the  reader. 
The  style  marks  the  man.     Let  your  sentences 
not  only  contain  facts  or  ideas  ;  let  them  scan 
well,    and    be    euphonious    in    the    reading. 
Satisfy  yourself  that  your  work  is  artistic   as 
well  as  interesting,  and  that,  however  laboured 
it  may  be  in  the  preparation,  it  reads  as  if  it 
had  been  what  many  incompetent  writers  call 
1  dashed      off.'      Nothing    worth    reading     is 
'  dashed  off '    without     much   previous    pre 
paration.     If  you  have    thought     slowly   you 


166  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  BEADING 

Joseph  may  write  quickly.  There  are  many  works  on 
Nation,  style,  old  and  new;  I  have  found  none  of 
them  of  much  service,  they  are  generally 
pedantic,  and  sometimes  written  by  persons 
who  cannot  write  the  pure  English  they  dis 
cuss  and  illustrate. 

"I  have  given  you  in  these  few  lines  a 
glance  at  my  own  experience  in  the  formation 
of  style,  and  I  do  not  say  I  have  solved  the 
problem,  nor  even  suggested  how  you  can 
solve  it ;  but  I  have  responded  to  your  inquiries 
as  best  I  can  in  so  brief  a  space,  taking  no 
note,  as  you  see,  of  the  value  of  an  early 
classical  training  and  a  knowledge  of  the  best 
poetry.  So  far  as  the  great  masters  of  the 
ancient  tongues  are  concerned,  I  have  become 
acquainted  with  them,  as  a  rule,  second-hand, 
but  I  venture  to  think  that  much  time  is  often 
wasted  in  the  study  of  dead  languages,  which 
modern  scholars  have  made  alive  for  all  who 
care  to  study  the  literature  thereof  in  trans 
lations  that,  I  imagine,  contain  the  very 
essence  of  the  originals,  with  the  additional 
advantage  to  the  student  that  they  are 
frequently  fine  examples  of  English,  pure  and 
undefined.  In  conclusion,  and  once  more  in 


ON  LITERARY  STYLE.  167 

reference  to  myself  and  my  work,  I  would  like  Joseph 
to  say  I  have  always  been  a  miscellaneous 
reader,  from  the  Bible  and  '  the  Fathers,'  and 
even  down  to  Beecher  and  Ingersoll ;  from 
Shakespeare  to  Whitman;  from  Plutarch  to 
the  Newgate  Calendar  ;  from  Scott  GO 
Ouida ;  from  Keats,  Coleridge,  Pope,  Words 
worth,  Byron,  to  the  '  Poet's  Corner  '  of  the 
local  newspaper  ;  from.  Tennyson  to — well, 
whatever  minor  poet  you  may  select,  for  I 
have  read  most  of  them ;  from  '  Don  Quixote  ' 
to  *  She  ' ;  from  Dickens  to  his  latest  imitator ; 
and  I  have  always  loved  books  of  travel  and 
biography.  Who  does  not  know  and  revel  in 
Wallace,  Stanley,  Smiles,  Boswell,  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  great  company  of  travellers  and 
biographers,  ancient  and  modern  ?  " 

AUBREY  DE  VERB,  a  poet,  the  son  of  a  poet,  A.  de 
a  Koman  Catholic,  a  lover  of  the  old  order,  a 
born  idealist,  an  author  of  elevated  and  refined 
style,  writes  to  say :  "  My  attention,  was  much 
drawn  to  the  subject  in  my  boyhood  by  several 
scholarly  friends,  who  lamented  the  decline  of 
style  in  recent  days,  and  by  some  remarks  in 
Hare's  '  Guesses  at  Truth,'  and  the  works  of 
12 


168  THE  INFLUENCE   OF  BEADING 

A.  de  Walter  Savage  Landor.  The  latter  and 
V&**  Cardinal  Newman  appear  to  me  to  be  the  two 
chief  masters  of  style  in  our  time,  and  I  have 
read  them  carefully  for  that  merit,  as  well  as 
for  other  merits  higher  still.  Among  other 
modern  writers  I  should  name  Charles  Lamb, 
Coleridge,  Shelley,  and  Southey,  as  especially 
good  in  style  ;  while  I  cannot  sympathise  with 
the  admiration  often  expressed  for  Macaulay, 
any  more  than  for  Gibbon,  who  seems  to 
me  to  mingle  the  pompous  and  the  epigram 
matic  with  a  very  offensive  self-consciousness, 
though,  of  course,  not  without  much  power. 
My  attention  was  early  directed  to  the  grand 
style  of  the  old  English  divines,  especially 
Hooker,  Jeremy  Taylor,  and  Barrow,  whose 
marvellously  long  sentences,  with  their  mag 
netic  onward  flow,  I  much  admired,  as  well 
as  the  skill  and  care  with  which  they  always 
extricated  the  meaning  from  the  labyrinths  oi 
multitudinous  clauses.  Still  more  wonderful 
in  these  respects  I  thought  some  of  Milton's 
prose  works  ;  while,  of  course,  I  admired  also 
those  more  compact  and  yet  hardly  less  stately 
writers  of  English  literature's  silver  age,  such 
as  Dryden,  Swift,  Bolingbroke,  and  Berkeley. 


ON   LITEKARY   STYLE.  109 

"  As  regards  education  in  style,  I  should  A.  de 
suppose  that  nothing  can  help  the  young  more  *er€m 
than  a  careful  and  systematic  study  of  its 
greatest  masters  ;  for  we  learn  to  write  as  we 
learn  to  speak,  chiefly  through  sympathy  and 
unconscious  imitation.  Landor  has  said  that 
'  Style  is  part  of  a  man's  character.'  It  at  least 
shares  much  in  the  character  of  his  intellect ; 
and  to  write  in  a  noble  style  a  man  should  learn 
to  think  habitually  with  force  and  clearness, 
retaining,  even  when  his  thought  becomes  most 
impassioned,  a  vigilant  mental  self-posses 
sion — a  thing  singularly  wanting  in  the  style 
of  Carlyle,  who  seems  never  able  to  rouse 
up  his  faculties  until  he  has  flung  himself 
into  a  condition,  riot  only  of  energy,  but  of 
vehement  excitement,  a  condition  in  which  the 
language  overruns  the  thought  and  tramples  it 
down. 

"  A  good  style  is,  of  course,  the  result  of  care, 
but  the  care  should  be  of  that  quick,  habitual 
sort  which  does  not  flurry  or  frighten  the 
writer,  and  it  should  be  rather  negative  than 
positive;  that  is,  it  should  proceed  from  a 
conscientious  desire  not  to  sin  against  gram 
mar,  not  from  a  vain- glorious  wish  to  excel, 


170  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  READING 

A.  de  Probably  the  finest  passages  have  been  written 
Vere.  without  a  consciousness  that  they  were  fine. 
Many  writers  seem  to  miss  the  mark  from  too 
great  eagerness  to  carry  some  one  particular 
merit  to  an  unprecedented  height.  Some  fancy 
that  only  Saxon  words  should  be  used ;  others 
will  only  tolerate  those  derived  from  the 
Latin;  the  fact  being  that  the  former  class 
imparts  strength,  like  short  sentences,  and  the 
latter  grace  and  dignity,  like  long  sentences, 
and  consequently  that  both  classes  are  needed, 
each  in  its  place.  A  young  writer  should  be 
well  acquainted  with  some  works  exposing 
incorrectness  of  style  in  its  very  numerous 
forms.  One  book  that  I  looked  over  lately, 
*  Deacon's  Composition  and  Style,'  surprised 
me  by  the  number  of  errors  it  detected  even  in 
our  classic  writers.  I  was  also  surprised  to  find 
how  much  I  had  myself  to  correct,  when,  quite 
lately,  Macmillan  brought  out  for  me  in  two 
volumes,  '  Essays,  Chiefly  on  Poetry,'  in  which 
I  had  collected  contributions  of  mine  to  our 
chief  periodicals  in  past  years." 

,-  ^  JOHN  ADDINGTON   SYMONDS,  the  author  of 

Symonds.    a  fine  study  of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy  and 


ON  LITERARY  STYLE.  171 

other  scholarly  works,  is  marked  as  a  writer  J.  A 
by  culture  of  rare  distinction,  critical  ability,  of 
signal  penetration,  and  a  literary  sense  of  the 
very  finest.     "I   was  always  fond  of  reading 
and   of  learning   poetry   by   heart,"  he   says, 
"  and  rny  father,  a  man  of  very  cultivated 
mind,  used  to  read  select  passages  from  the 
best  authors  aloud  to  us.     In  this  way  I  heard, 
while  yet  a  boy,  much   of   Milton's,  Jeremy 
Taylor's,     Sir     Thomas     Browne's,    Lamb's, 
Landor's,  and  Bacon's  prose.     I  was  educated 
at  Harrow.     But  there   I  did  not  distinguish 
myself  at  all  in  English  composition.     I  failed 
signally  to  win  either  English  essay  or  English 
poem.     Yet  I  think  I  must  have  been  forming 
a  style  unconsciously  ;  for  I  came  the   other 
day  upon  a    diatribe  in  MS.  of   that    period 
which  seemed  to  me  not  without  merit  of  a 
rhetorical  kind.     It  was  written  for  my  own 
amusement  on  the  conceptions  made  severally 
by  Homer,   Virgil,  and  Dante    regarding  the 
state  of  souls  in  the  next  world.     The  influ 
ences  of  De  Quincey,  of  whom  I  was  a  diligent 
student  then,  is  apparent.     During  my  time  at 
Oxford   I  practised  writing   assiduously,   and 
began  to  feel  that  I  had  some  power.     Hardly 


172  THE  INFLUENCE   OF  BEADING 

J.  A.  a  day  passed  without  my  composing  something 
Symonds.  jn  verse  or  prose  for  my  own  pleasure  ;  while 
I  also  spent  great  pains  upon  a  weekly  essay 
for  my  tutor,  Professor  Jowett.  His  observa 
tions,  and  the  criticisms  my  father  occasionally 
gave  me,  were  extremely  helpful.  They  checked 
my  tendency  to  a  vague  and  sentimental 
rhetoric. 

"  Great  facility  of  expression  has  always  been 
my  bane,  combined  with  a  natural  partiality 
for  sensuous  imagery.  I  attribute  any  degree 
of  strength  and  purity  of  style  to  which  I  may 
subsequently  have  attained  in  no  small  measure 
— (1)  to  the  composition  of  essays  on  very  meta 
physical  topics  for  so  good  a  critic  as  Professor 
Jowett ;  (2)  to  the  habit  of  translation  from  the 
Greek.  I  was  fortunate  in  enjoying  the  inti 
mate  friendship  of  Professor  Conington,  who 
also  helped  me  by  sound  advice.  His  own 
style  was  clear  and  vigorous,  without  affecta 
tion.  He  laughed  me  out  of  many  of  my  con 
ceits  and  prettinesses.  All  this  while  I  kept 
on  composing  English  verses;  the  style  modelled, 
by  sympathy  rather  than  calculation,  upon 
Tennyson  and  Keats.  But  Conington  was 
convinced  that  I  could  not  be  a  poet,  and  his 


ON  LITERABY   STYLE.  173 

discouraging  influence  prevented  me  from  J.  A. 
studying  poetry  with  system.  The  only  wrong  Symonds. 
direction  I  am  aware  of  having  received  from 
any  one  was  from  him,  when  he  once  said : 
1  Your  forte  lies  in  poetical  prose.'  I  took  the 
hint  too  literally  ;  and  when  I  felt  inclined  to 
write  verse,  used  often  to  compel  myself  to 
prose  expression,  the  result  of  which  was  that 
I  got  into  a  hybrid  habit  of  writing  which  has 
given  offence  to  many  of  my  critics.  I  ought 
to  add  that  from  the  age  of  eighteen  to 
twenty-four  I  kept  a  diary,  chiefly  for  the 
description  of  impressions  made  on  me  by 
landscapes  and  works  of  art.  This  I  am 
quite  sure  helped  to  form  my  own  style 
more  than  all  else.  The  emotional  passages 
of  the  diary  are  in  verse,  the  descriptive 
and  critical  passages  in  prose.  If  you  happen 
to  know  my  books  of  '  Italian  Sketches,'  you 
will  be  interested  to  know  that  they  are 
largely  extracts  from  this  journal. 

"  On  leaving  Oxford  I  began  two  kinds  of 
study,  which  had  a  powerful  effect  upon  my 
style.  One  was  writing  for  The  Saturday 
Review;  I  was  just  twenty-one  when  I  first 
became  a  regular  contributor  to  that  periodical. 


174  THE  INFLUENCE   OF   BEADING 

J.  A.         The  other  was   a  systematic  reading  of  the 
Symonds.  Elizabethan    dramatists.      In    the    course    of 
three  years  I  read  them  from  beginning  to 
end,  and   wrote  a  complete  series  of  studies 
on  them,  which  I  refrained  from  publishing, 
feeling  the  work  too  immature.     I  reached  the 
age  of  thirty-one  before  I   published   a  book 
under  my  own  name.     Severe  illness  spoiled 
for  me  the  years  between  twenty-three   and 
thirty.     I  could  not  use  my  eyes,  and  broke 
down  in  the  lungs.     But  I  am  of  opinion  that 
the  enforced  inaction  of  that  period  was  not 
an  entire  evil.     It  made  me  reflect  more,  and 
checked    my    natural    fluency ;     although    it 
prevented  me  from  acquiring  exact  knowledge 
and  prosecuting  etudes  fortes  at  the  time  when 
the  intellect  is  best  fitted  for  such  work.     To 
sum  up.     My  training  in  style  has  consisted  in 
(1)   early  habits    of   reading,  with    love,   for 
pleasure,   in    a    desultory   way,   without    the 
sense   of   obligation ;    (2)    sustained    practice 
in  several  kinds  of  writing,  partly  under  the 
eyes  of  strict  criticism,  partly  in  journalism, 
partly  with  a  view  to  arriving  at  self-expression, 
and  to  recording    impressions   with    fidelity, 
while  they  were  pert  and  present  to  the  mind, 


ON   LITEEAEY  STYLE.  175 

in  diaries.     But  it  has  never  been  a  systematic  jr.  A. 
or  deliberate  training.  Symonds 

"  Cicero's  motto,  Nulla  dies  sine  lined,  is  the 
first  precept  for  a  would-be  author.  In  the 
second  place,  he  should  learn  to  respect  the 
criticism  of  his  elders,  even  though  it  goes 
against  his  own  tastes.  Although  it  may  not 
be  possible  to  teach  style,  it  is  certainly 
possible  to  direct  the  young  by  sound  advice 
from  mannerisms  and  affectations." 

Professor  JAMES  BEYCE  says,  "  I  have  never  Prof.J* 
made  any  study  of  style,  or  read  any  writer 
with  a  view  to  the  formation  or  polishing  of 
style.  Sometimes  it  has  occurred  to  me  that 
a  man  migbt  much  improve  himself  by  this ; 
but  I  have  never  had  leisure  to  study  the 
masters  of  style,  or  in  writing  to  think  of  any 
thing  except  how  most  clearly  to  state  what 
one  had  to  say.  However,  I  fully  believe 
that  the  right  thing  for  any  one  who 
would  write  well  is  to  con  over  the  best 
masters  of  English,  especially  the  six  or  eight 
of  our  best  poets,  and  I  heartily  wish  I  had 
done  so,  being  confirmed  in  this  view  by  a  very 
bright  and  sensible  article  by  E.  L.  Stevenson. 


176  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  READING 

Prof.  f.     in  a  little  volume  of  his  well  worth  reading. 

Bryce.  ^^  j  j^now  ^ia^  three  or  four  other  of  our 
most  acceptable  writers  have  modelled  them 
selves  on  English  classics,  such  as  Burke  and 
Milton.  Of  living  writers,  the  best  models 
though  one  whose  art  it  would  be  difficult  to 
catch,  seems  to  me  to  be  Cardinal  Newman. 
There  is,  of  course,  the  danger  that  a  student 
may  become  a  mere  imitator,  and  provoke  the 
annoyance  of  his  readers  by  reproducing 
mannerisms  rather  than  merits.  The  study 
of  a  number  of  masterpieces,  equally  care 
fully,  would  check  this.  The  one  practical 
suggestion  I  can  make  from  personal  experi 
ence  is,  that  it  is  impossible  to  take  too  much 
pains  over  arranging  the  heads  of  a  subject 
before  sitting  down  to  write.  The  whole 
progress  of  the  argument  ought  to  be  clear  and 
consecutive  in  the  mind  before  the  pen  sets 
to  work.  Time  is  saved  in  the  long  run." 

Peter  "  I  am  very  far  from  satisfied,"  says  PETER 

•Bayne.       BAYNE,  "  with  my  own  manner  of  writing,  and 

should  have  real  difficulty  in  making  up  my 

mind,  with  anything  like   dogmatic   decision, 

as  to  what  influences  have  done  me  good  and 


ON   LITEKAKY   STYLE.  177 

what  influences  have  done  me  harm.  So  Peter 
many  are  the  classically  admirable  masters  of  Baym' 
English  style  that  I  shrink  from  naming 
any,  but  would  advise  the  student  to  shun 
being  dominated  by  any  one  writer,  however 
fascinating  or  however  forcible  and  clear. 
After  all,  I  am  constrained  to  fall  back  on  the 
commonplace  remark  that  the  art  of  composi 
tion,  whatever  may  be  its  importance,  comes 
in  the  second  place,  not  the  first.  Read 
diligently  and  comprehensively,  think  with 
care  and  patience,  know  accurately,  feel 
sincerely,  then  write  unaffectedly,  and  you  will 
write  as  well  as  nature  and  God  have  fitted 
and  intended  you  to  write." 

A  few  testimonies  and  experiences  from 
across  the  Atlantic  may  not  be  without  some 
special  interest. 

SAKAK   OBNE  JEWETT  is  one  of  the  best  Miss 

O      Q 

literary  artists  amongst  the  American  writers    rewett 
of  short  stories.     Her  composition  is  simple, 
yet  full  of  force  ;  while  the  pictures  she  paints 
of  village  life  are  inspired  by  a  deep-felt  sym 
pathy  with  the   common  people.      "  I  hardly 


178  THE   INFLUENCE    OF   READING 

Miss         know  what  to  say  about  my  early  plans,"  she 
S.  O.        writes,    "  and   especially   about    any    definite 
study  that  I  gave  to  the  business  of  writing. 
I  was  not  a  studious  child,  though   always  a 
great  reader,  and  what  individuality  I  have  in 
my  manner  of   writing  must   be    a    natural 
growth  and  not  the  result  of   study  or  con 
scious  formation.     Of  course,  at  one  time,  I, 
like  all  young  people,  was  possessed  of  great 
admiration  for  different  authors,  but  I  do  not 
remember  trying  to  copy  their  style  in   any 
way,  excepting  that  I  remember  thinking  that 
if  I  could  write  just  as  Miss  Thackeray  did  in 
her   charming   stories  I    should    be    perfectly 
happy.     I   tried  to  model   some   of  my   own 
early  work  on  her  plan.     I  see  very  little  like 
ness,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  as  I  read  it  over  now ! 
I  believe  very  much  in  reading  English  books 
like  Walton's  and  others  of  his  time  ;  though 
I  think  I  have  learned  as  much  from  the  telling 
of  simple   stories  and   character    sketches    in 
the  *  Sentimental  Journey  '   as  from  anything. 
They  were   great  favourites   with  my  father, 
and  were  easily  impressed  on  my  mind ;  the 
monks,   and  the   starling,  and   the   peasants' 
dance  in  particular." 


ON   LITERARY   STYLE.  179 

GEORGE  WILLIAM  CURTIS,  widely  known  in  G.  W. 
the  United  States  by  his  delightful  books  of  Curtis' 
travel,  character  sketches,  and  stories,  and 
known  to  English  readers  by  his  bright  and  read 
able  contributions  to  Harper  s  Magazine  in  "  The 
Editor's  Easy  Chair,"  says  of  himself :  "  What 
ever  my  style  of  writing  may  be  it  is  the  result 
of  natural  selection,  and  not  of  special  design. 
The  first  author  who  interested  rne  deeply, 
after  '  Robinson  Crusoe  '  and  the  usual  chil 
dren's  books  of  fifty  and  sixty  years  ago,  was 
Washington  Irving.  Then  came  Walter  Scott 
and  Charles  Lamb,  Keats,  Shelley,  and  Words 
worth,  then  Bacon  and  Emerson,  Burke 
and  Carlyle,  Thackeray  and  Hawthorne.  But 
rhetoric  or  composition  I  have  never  studied. 
My  long  connection  with  the  Press  has  been  of 
the  utmost  service  to  me  as  a  writer.  For 
many  years  I  have  been  the  chief  editorial 
writer  upon  Harper's  Weekly,  a  paper  which 
takes  part  in  political  discussion,  and  the  ne 
cessity  of  making  myself  intelligible  to  the 
rapid  reader  in  a  comparatively  short  space 
has  been  probably  the  best  training  I  could 
have  had.  Fortunately  I  have  no  taste  foi 
what  seems  to  me  the  frequent  extravagance  of 


180  THE   INFLUENCE    OF  BEADING 

G.  W.  newspaper  writing,  and  therefore  I  have  easily 
Curtis.  avoided  it.  Every  young  writer  should  re 
member  that  bigness  is  not  greatness,  nor  fury 
force.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  style  is  the  man, 
and  we  can  only  say  with  Byron's  Deformed, 
'  I  was  born  so,  mother.'  " 

R,  H.  BICHAED  HENEY  STODDAED,  one  of  the  fore- 

Stod-  most  professional  literary  men,  and  one  who 
has  done  excellent  service  to  American  letters, 
writes:  "  If  I  write  good  English  I  can  only  say 
it  is  because  I  have  long  read  the  best  English 
books,  the  masters  of  our  noble  language;  and, 
furthermore,  because  those  amongst  us  who 
speak  or  think  before  they  write  are  more  careful 
than  the  majority  are  in  using  their  native 
speech.  Beyond  reading  great  English  books 
I  have  no  training.  I  try  to  think  clearly,  and 
to  put  what  I  think  directly  and  as  strongly  as 
I  may.  Whether  I  write  rapidly  or  slowly 
depends  partly  upon  the  mood  of  the  moment, 
and  partly  upon  my  knowledge  or  ignorance 
of  what  I  purpose  to  write  about.  My  idea 
of  good  writing  is  that  it  ought  to  possess  all 
the  qualities  of  good  talking  and  surpass 
them." 


ON   LITEEAEY   STYLE.  181 

FRANCIS  PAEKMAN,  the  historian,  "  whose  Francis 
literary  life-theme  has  been  the  relations  of  Park~ 
the  French  Colonists  of  North  America  with 
the  English  and  Indians,"  says  :  "  When  four 
teen  or  fifteen  years  old  I  had  the  good  h  ck 
fco  he  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  "William 
Russell,  a  teacher  of  excellent  literary  tastes 
and  acquirements.  It  was  his  constant  care 
to  teach  the  boys  of  his  class  to  write  good  and 
easy  English.  One  of  his  methods  was  to 
give  us  lists  of  words  to  which  we  were 
required  to  furnish  as  many  synonyms  as 
possible,  distinguishing  their  various  shades  of 
meaning.  He  also  encouraged  us  to  write 
translations,  in  prose  and  verse,  from  Virgil 
and  Homer,  insisting  on  idiomatic  English, 
and  criticising  in  his  gentle  way  anything 
flowery  and  bombastic.  At  this  time  I  read  a 
good  deal  of  poetry,  and  much  of  it  remains 
verbatim  in  my  memory.  As  it  included 
Milton  and  other  classics,  I  am  confident 
that  it  has  been  of  service  to  me  in  the  matter 
of  style.  Later  on,  when  in  college  and  after 
leaving  it,  I  read  English  prose  classics  for  the 
express  purpose  of  improving  myself  in  the 
language.  These  I  take  to  be  the  chief 


182  THE  INFLUENCE   OF  BEADING 

Francis     sources  of  such  success  as  I  have  had  in  this 

Park-        particular." 
man. 

E.  E.  EDWARD  EVERETT  HALE,  the  author  of 
Hale'  that  remarkable  story,  "The  Man  Without 
a  Country,"  which  teaches  so  eloquently  and 
pathetically  the  lesson  of  love  for  one's 
country,  is  an  American  preacher,  essayist, 
and  novelist  of  considerable  influence  and 
popularity  in  the  United  States.  He  is  the 
recognised  enemy  of  routine,  pedantry,  and 
dulness,  but  his  work  is  marred  by  a  too 
constant  sacrifice  of  reality  in  the  effort  to 
be  sparkling  and  readable.  "  I  think  that 
when  I  entered  college  I  wrote  as  bad  English 
as  a  boy  could  write,"  he  says.  "  But  I  was 
then  under  the  cKarge  of  Professor  Edward 
T.  Charming,  a  brother  of  the  celebrated 
Dr.  Channing.  He  read  our  crude  themes, 
corrected  them,  and  made  us  sit  by  his  side 
while  he  improved  them.  He  laughed  at 
the  bombast,  struck  out  the  superfluities 
rigorously,  and  compelled  us  to  say  what  we 
really  knew  and  really  thought.  I  was  after 
wards,  in  my  father's  newspaper  office,  obliged 
to  do  one  and  another  thing  which  the  son  of 


ON  LITEBAEY  STYLE.  183 

an  *  editor-in-chief,  the  manager  of  his  own  E.  E, 
paper,  could  be  asked  to  do.  There  is  nothing  Hale. 
in  the  work  of  a  daily  paper  to  which  I  have 
not  had  to  put  my  hand.  My  father  wrote 
admirable  English,  and  kept  a  good  oversight 
of  the  English  of  his  subordinates.  I  once 
brought  to  him  a  very  laudatory  book  notice. 
I  was  but  sixteen  years  old.  *  It  will  do,'  he 
said,  '  but  you  had  better  leave  out  all  the 
verys.'  I  think  the  training  a  man  gets  when 
the  compositors  wait  in  a  file  at  the  door  to 
take  his  copy,  page  by  page,  as  he  writes  it, 
is  excellent  drill  in  accuracy.  In  early  life 
I  happened  to  have  in  my  own  room  some 
1,500  books  of  modern  French — the  French  of 
what  the  French  call  their  Kenaissance,  of  the 
Restoration,  and  of  Louis  Philippe's  time,  De 
Maistre,  George  Sand,  Hugo's  earlier  books, 
and  so  on.  I  read  them  a  great  deal,  and  I 
can  detect  the  influence  of  them  in  my  own 
English.  But  I  have  never  known  but  one 
reader  who  ever  observed  this.  I  have  always 
tried  to  write  Saxon  rather  than  Latin,  in 
short  words  rather  than  long,  and  specially 
in  short  sentences.  You  do  not  ask  for  such 
details.  I  have  gone  into  them  at  some 

13 


184  THE   INFLUENCE  OF  READING 

E.  E.       length  in  a  paper,  *  How  to  Write,'  in  a  little 
Hale.        book  canea  <  How  To  Do  It.'  " 

<-••  »y-  I  will  close  this  chapter  by  a  capital  letter 
Monier  from  an  English  author  of  considerable 
Wtl-  eminence  in  his  own  special  sphere  of  research, 
Sir  MONIEE  MONIER  WILLIAMS.  "I  attribute 
a  great  deal  of  such  success  in  authorship  as  I 
have  attained  to  early  training,  combined  with 
an  intense  desire  to  succeed  and  a  kind  of 
dogged  perseverance  and  power  of  persistence 
with  which  I  am  naturally  gifted.  I  owe 
much  to  the  late  Dr.  Major,  who  was  head 
master  of  King's  College  School  during  the 
time  I  was  there — at  a  critical  period  of  boy 
hood,  from  fifteen  to  seventeen.  I  was  in 
his  upper  sixth  class,  and  he  made  us  all 
write  an  English  essay,  or  Latin  prose 
essay,  or  English  verses,  on  a  given  subject 
once  a  week.  This  practice  was  continued 
at  Balliol  College,  Oxford,  while  I  was  an 
undergraduate  there.  The  head  of  the  college 
corrected  our  weekly  essays,  and  was  him 
self  an  excellent  Latin  scholar.  I  had  also 
the  advantage  of  an  able  private  tutor, 
who  was  the  best  Latin  prose  writer  of  his 


ON  LITERARY  STYLE.  185 

day.     Practice  in  Latin  prose  generally  ensures  Sir  M. 
grammatical  accuracy  and  exactness  in  every  ^^ier 
other  kind  of  composition.     Yet  it  is  true  that  Hams. 
many  masters  of  English,  like  the  late  John 
Bright,  have  disclaimed  any  training  in  Latin, 
Greek,  or  mathematics. 

"  In  my  opinion,  excellence  of  composition 
may  be  achieved  by  keeping  in  view  six 
essentials,  always  presupposing  grammatical 
accuracy  as  an  indispensable  basis.  These  are 
(1)  perspicuity ;  (2)  vigour ;  (3)  simplicity  ;  (4) 
methodical  and  logical  sequence  of  sentences 
and  paragraphs  ;  (5)  right  collocation  of  words 
in  a  sentence ;  (6)  rhythm.  I  consider  per 
spicuity  to  be  by  far  the  most  important  of  the 
six.  Want  of  lucidity  is  a  fatal  defect.  Any 
would-be  author  who  indulges  in  long  and 
involved  sentences,  with  too  frequent  paren 
theses,  is  doomed  to  failure.  It  seems  to  me 
also  that  looseness  in  the  use  of  pronouns  is 
one  most  common  source  of  obscurity.  Arch 
bishop  Whately's  writings  furnish  a  good 
model  of  a  really  lucid  style.  As  to  vigour 
and  simplicity,  the  authorised  version  of  the 
Bible  should,  in  my  opinion,  be  studied  as  the 
best  example,  as  well  as  for  its  good  old  Saxon 


186  THE   INFLUENCE   OF  BEADING 

Sir  M.      English.     Yet  it  seems   to   me  mere  affecta- 

n/r      * 

yffl*  tion  not  to  make  use  of  the  copious  supply  of 
Hams.  words  derived  from  other  languages,  which 
the  composite  structure  of  our  grand  mother 
tongue  places  at  our  command.  Nor  is  the 
frequent  employment  of  apt  metaphor  to  be 
deprecated ;  though  confusion  of  different 
metaphors  in  the  same  sentence  cannot  be  too 
strongly  condemned.  Abstemiousness  in  the 
use  of  adjectives,  without  total  abstinence,  is 
clearly  essential  to  vigour.  I  think  it  was  Dr. 
Johnson  who  gave  a  youthful  and  too  florid 
writer  the  following  valuable  hint :  '  Eead  over 
your  composition  a  day  or  two  after  the  writing 
of  it,  and  if  you  come  to  any  passage  which  you 
think  particularly  fine,  strike  it  out.'  The  fourth 
and  fifth  requisites  deserve  great  attention ;  they 
seem  to  me  too  commonly  neglected.  As  to 
rhythm,!  think  that  a  rhythmical  ear  is  as  neces 
sary  for  good  prose  composition  as  for  verse. 

"  Permit  me  to  conclude  by   commending 
Horace's  rule,  translated  by  Conington — 

"  '  0  yes,  believe  me,  you  must  draw  your  pen 
Not  once,  nor  twice,  but  o'er  and  o'er  again 
Through  what  you've  written,  if  you'd  entice 
The  man  who  reads  you  once  to  read  you  twice.' 


ON  LITERARY   STYLE.  187 

The  better  to  observe  tbis  precept  I  may  say  Sir  M. 
tbat  I  always  put  aside  wbat  I  bave  written 
for  two  or  tbree  weeks  or  more,  till  it  bas 
almost  passed  out  of  my  mind.  Tben  I  take 
it  up  and  criticise  it  from  the  standpoint  of  an 
outsider,  and  I  generally  strike  out  at  least 
half.  This  process  is  sometimes  repeated  two 
or  three  times,  till  in  the  end  very  little  is  left 
of  the  original  composition.  My  last  work,  on 
Buddhism,  was  so  written.  Yet,  with  all  this 
elaboration,  the  composition  should  read  as  if 
it  were  written  easily  and  without  effort.  Ars 
est  celare  artem." 


THE    STRENGTH    OF    SIMPLICITY. 


THE    STRENGTH    OF    SIMPLICITY. 

TTNFOKTUNATELY  the  idea  is  preva- 
\^J  lent  with  many  that  simplicity  is  not 
strength,  that  it  is  far  more  likely  to  be  the 
twin  sister  of  shallowness.  But  if  by  sim 
plicity  we  mean  the  straightforward  repre 
senting  of  facts,  the  honest  utterance  of  honest 
thought,  the  clear  revealing  of  some  reality 
within  we  wish  our  neighbour  to  know  and 
share,  if  it  means  the  clothing  of  ideas  un 
adorned,  save  by  the  chaste  adornment  truth 
alone  can  give,  then  it  will  not  necessarily 
mean  lack  of  intellectual  depth,  nor  will  it  be 
a  synonym  for  superficiality.  A  man's  writing 
may  be  most  transparent,  he  may  clothe  his 
thoughts  in  words  so  simple  a  child  can  under 
stand,  yet  he  may  be  treating  of  problems  that 
perplex  the  wisest,  and  demand  even  from  the 
scholar  the  closest  study.  The  simplicity  of 
words  is  like  the  simplicity  of  food  and  cloth 
ing.  A  little  child  eats  his  food  and  wears  his 
clothes,  and  readily  understands  us  when  we 


192  THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

speak  to  him  of  either.  But  both  food  and 
clothing  are  complex  substances,  representing 
realities  the  child  cannot  at  present  compre 
hend,  and  covering  depths  of  information  he 
has  not  yet  fathomed. 

The  best  and  profoundest  writers  are  the 
simplest.  Their  simplicity  is  their  charm. 
Clothing  the  sublimest  thoughts  in  the  most 
direct  language,  they  teach  us  that  the  strength 
of  the  English  tongue  is  in  its  short  words, 
chiefly  monosyllables  of  Saxon  derivation. 
Perhaps  no  influence  has  been  so  penetrative 
and  far-reaching  in  creating  the  beauty  and 
strength  of  English  literature  as  that  of  the 
authorised  version  of  the  Bible.  Without  it 
there  would  have  been  no  Milton,  Carlyle, 
Emerson,  or  Kuskin.  Yet  the  literary  form  of 
that  "  well  of  English  undefiled  "  is  surely  the 
simplest.  Of  all  writers,  Shakespeare  is  one 
of  the  most  simple,  yet  for  grace  and  ele 
gance,  for  energy  and  searching  power,  he 
certainly  stands  supreme.  It  is  an  egregious 
mistake  to  use  what  Horace  calls  verba  sesqui- 
pedalia,  words  a  foot  and  a  half  long ;  unless 
indeed  it  be  the  author's  purpose  to  employ 
language  that  will  best  conceal  his  thoughts. 


THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY.  193 

The  one  sure  test  of  all  written  composition 
is  its  conformity  to  the  canon  of  simplicity. 
Writing  that  is  extravagant,  that  is  eccentric, 
that  is  marred  hy  affectation,  that  is  spoiled  hy 
striving  after  effect,  that  is  not  simple,  direct, 
natural,  lacks  the  one  thing  needful  to  main 
tain  its  hold  upon  men.  It  is  doomed  to  die, 
though  for  a  generation  it  may  lead  the  fashion. 
Instinctively  we  expect  an  author  to  be  per 
fectly  frank  with  us,  to  speak  to  us  openly, 
sincerely,  and  in  a  manner  we  can  under 
stand  ;  and  he  loses  all  influence  over  us  the 
moment  we  are  suspicious  that  his  writing 
savours  of  under-statement  or  over- statement, 
of  duplicity  or  reserve.  "  Man,"  says  Carlyle, 
"  is  everywhere  a  born  enemy  of  lies." 

JOHN  BRIGHT  was  pre-eminently  a  public  John 
speaker.  With  him  oratory  was  a  fine  art. 
For  vivacity,  incisiveness,  purity  of  diction,  he 
stood  supreme  amongst  the  orators  of  his  day. 
His  addresses  have  been  published  in  book 
form,  and  will  long  continue  to  be  read  as 
literature  by  all  who  love  our  superb  mother 
tongue.  His  experience  may  well,  therefore, 
find  a  place  here.  "  I  had  no  training,"  he 


194  THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

fohn  Bays,  "  with  a  view  to  public  speaking.  I  read 
Bright.  gOQ(j  b00kSj  the  works  of  good  authors  ;  and,  I 
know  not  why  or  how,  I  appreciated  simplicity 
of  style,  and  avoided  the  use  of  unnecessary 
words.  Few  words,  short  words,  words  of 
what  is  called  Saxon  origin,  always  pleased  me, 
and  expressed  in  the  most  earnest  and  forcible 
manner  what  I  wished  to  say.  Then,  further, 
I  have  spoken  chiefly  on  great  questions  in 
which  I  have  been  deeply  interested  ;  but  I 
know  not  why  I  have  surpassed  any  other 
speaker,  if  I  have  done  so.  I  have  only  tried 
to  put  clear  thoughts  into  clear  language,  that 
I  might  convey  to  other  minds  the  clear  im 
pressions  of  my  own." 

Canon  HENRY    PARRY  LiDDON,  another  renowned 

Liddon.  orator,  who  must  also  be  classed  as  one  of 
our  best-known  authors,  may  surely  be  wel 
comed  here.  Careful  study,  deliberate  con 
viction,  brave  utterance,  chastened  eloquence, 
always  characterise  the  Canon's  sermons  or 
lectures;  and  these,  of  course,  constitute  the 
bulk  of  his  writings.  He  says  :  "  When  I  was 
a  young  man  I  did  not  take  any  pains  with  my 
style,  though  I  think  that  from  boyhood  good 


THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY.  105 

English  prose  always  gave  me  pleasure.  But  Canon 
a  clear  style,  whether  of  writing  or  speaking,  •"*"• 
is  the  natural  result,  as  it  is  the  appropriate 
clothing,  of  clear  thought.  The  sooner  a  man 
gets  facts  and  ideas  so  presented  to  his  mind, 
that  he  knows  exactly  what  they  do  and  what 
they  do  not  include,  what  are  their  frontiers, 
what  is  the  point  at  which  knowledge  becomes 
conjecture,  and  conjecture  ignorance,  the 
sooner  he  will  speak  and  write  clearly.  Of 
modern  writers  in  England,  Cardinal  Newman 
or  Mr.  John  S.  Mill  appear  to  me  to  be  the 
clearest,  and  on  the  whole  the  most  powerful, 
so  far  as  power  depends  on  the  manipulation  of 
language.  But,  as  a  rule,  the  prose  writers  of 
the  last  century  are  better  models  than  any  of 
this.  To  read  and  reread  Addison  and  Butler, 
cannot  but  be  instructive  in  this  respect. 
Hume  is  forcible ;  Gibbon  is  splendid,  but  to 
the  verge  of  being  turgid.  I  am,  of  course, 
only  discussing  the  style  of  these  writers,  as 
distinct  from  their  subject-matter. 

"  Of  modern  languages,  French  appears  to 
me  to  be  the  best  for  prose,  as  it  is  the  worst 
for  poetry.  French  prose  is  an  instrument  of 
unrivalled  clearness  for  the  conveyance  of 


196  THE   STRENGTH  OF  SIMPLICITY. 

Canon.       thought.     Bead     De    Tocqueville,   or     Caro's 
on°     Essays,  or  Saint  Beuve's  Causenes  de  Landi; 


you  would  see  what  I  mean.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  the  language  aims  at  a  precision  which 
the  facts  or  the  thought  do  not  warrant,  and 
so  betrays  us  into  an  idea  that  things  are 
simpler  and  clearer  than  they  really  are.  But 
an  Englishman  is  not  liable  to  fall  into  this 
mistake  ;  and  he  may  gain  a  great  deal  in  the 
art  of  clear  expression  by  reading  and  studying 
French  prose." 

Phillips  PHILLIPS  BROOKS,  the  celebrated  American 
Brooks,  preacher,  writes  :  —  "  I  have  no  tale  to  tell. 
My  only  training  in  composition  has  been 
the  constant  effort  for  many  years  to  say  as 
clearly  and  forcibly  as  I  could  what  was  in 
my  mind.  I  have  never  written  for  the  sake 
of  writing.  If  there  is  any  merit  in  the  style 
of  my  poor  books,  it  is  perhaps  to  this  as 
much  as  to  anything  that  it  is  due.  I  always 
find  it  hard  to  be  autobiographical.  In 
deed,  I  seem  to  myself  to  have  very  little  to 
say  about  my  life  and  ways.  They  have  been 
very  simple,  and  offer  almost  nothing  for 
remark." 


THE    STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY.  197 

PHILIP  SCHAFF  says:  "I  am  a  native  of  Philip 
Switzerland,  and  learnt  the  English  language  &***• 
after  I  was  called  to  a  professorship  in  Ame 
rica.  If  my  style  has  any  merit  it  is  due  to 
the  study  of  the  classics,  ancient  and  modern, 
especially  the  poets,  and  to  careful  elabora 
tion.  I  write,  correct,  abridge,  enlarge,  trans 
pose,  and  reproduce,  until  I  suit  my  notions 
of  luminous  arrangement  and  rhetorical  finish, 
although  I  am  never  quite  satisfied.  Clear 
ness,  precision,  brevity  and  fulness,  are  in  my 
opinion  essential  features  of  good  style.  I 
avoid  all  repetition  and  useless  verbiage,  and 
yet  try  to  give  full  expression  to  the  idea,  and 
I  pay  much  attention  to  logical  order  and 
artistic  grouping.  I  speak  chiefly  of  his 
torical  composition.  I  cannot  say  that  I 
have  any  special  model.  The  Germans  are 
superior  in  investigating,  the  English  and 
French  in  writing  history.  The  former  are 
miners,  the  latter  manufacturers.  Church  his 
torians  fall  far  behind  secular  historians  in  the 
charms  of  style.  Milman  and  Staoley  are 
exceptions." 

ROBERT    COLLTER,   the   author   of   several  Robert 

Collyer. 


198  THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

Robert  volumes  of  sermons  and  lectures,  and  one  of 
Ccllyer.  ^e  foremost  preachers  in  America,  says:  "I 
cannot  do  better  than  make  you  an  extract 
from  an  address  I  gave  to  a  host  of  young  men 
Borne  time  ago,  called,  '  From  the  Anvil  to  the 
Pulpit.'  Speaking  of  my  home  and  habit  as  a 
boy,  I  said,  '  There  was  a  small  shelf  of  books 
— Bunyan,  Crusoe,  Goldsmith's  "  England," 
the  half  of  "  Sandford  and  Merton,"  and  the 
Bible,  with  lots  of  pictures, "  The  Young  Man's 
Best  Companion,"  and  Fleetwood's  "  Life  of 
Christ."  Now,  do  you  want  to  know  how  1 
talk  to  you  in  this  simple  Saxon?  I  read 
Bunyan,  Crusoe,  Goldsmith,  when  I  was  a 
boy — morning,  noon,  and  night.  All  the  rest 
was  task  work;  books  of  this  sort  were  my 
delight — with  the  stories  in  the  Bible,  and 
with  Shakespeare,  when  at  last  that  mighty 
master  came  within  our  doors.  They  were 
like  a  well  of  pure  water,  the  others  were  like 
sand.  And  this  is  the  first  step  I  seem  to 
have  taken  of  my  own  free  will  toward  the 
pulpit.'  I  think  that  tells  the  story  of  the 
way  I  came  to  write  as  I  do,  and  to  use  our 
skople  and  sincere  Saxon  speech.  When  I 
have  to  speak  I  do  not  know  anything  about 


THE   STEENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY.  199 

the  rules  of  grammar,  it  seems  to  be  an  Robert 
instinct  apart  from  rules.  It  is  not,  how 
ever,  '  as  easy  as  rolling  off  a  log,'  as  we  say, 
to  write  so  that  your  work  shall  be  at  once 
clear  and  strong.  Friends  will  say  now  and 
then,  *  Your  things  seem  to  come  easy  to  you, 
to  say  themselves,'  when,  indeed,  they  have 
cost  me  very  severe  labour  to  get  them  just  to 
iny  mind." 

ANDREW  P.  PEABODY,  professor  in  Harvard  A.  P. 
University,  the  author  of  many  excellent  books 
upon  Christian  morals,  and  a  preacher  of  wide 
repute,  gives  a  statement  of  his  own  literary 
history  and  methods.  "  In  my  early  boyhood 
I  loved  to  read,  and  devoted  to  books  most  of 
the  time  that  I  might  have  given,  and  that  I 
think  would  have  been  more  wisely  given,  to 
recreation.  This  I  say  on  sanitary  grounds, 
for  though  I  have  a  very  vigorous  constitution, 
I  fear  that  my  health,  or  even  my  life,  must 
have  been  endangered  by  the  sedentary  habits 
of  my  boyhood.  But  I  did  read  continually, 
and  I  was  guided  to,  and  aided  in  the  reading  of, 
the  best  books,  so  that  I  became  early  familiar 
with  the  vocabulary  of  pure  classical  English. 
H 


200  THE   STRENGTH   OF   SIMPLICITY. 

A.  P.        I  never  wrote  anything  more  than  a  letter  till 
Peabody.    j  entered  college.     There  I  had  a  Professor  of 
Bhetoric  who  was  an  unsparing  critic  of  our 
themes,  pruning  away  all  superfluous  verbiage, 
ridiculing  inflation  and  bombast,  pointing  out 
the  incongruity  of  mixed  metaphors,  and  lay 
ing  great  stress  on  accuracy  and  precision.     I 
am  sure  I  derived  great  benefit  from  his  instruc 
tion.     Ever  since  I  graduated  I  have  been  a 
writer,  first  of  lectures,  for  popular  audiences  ; 
very  early,  for  the  press  ;    for  more  than  half 
a  century,  of  sermons,  to  the  number  of  several 
thousands.     My  habit  is  to  think  slowly,  and 
to  write  rapidly.     Were  I  going  to  prepare  an 
address  on  which  my  reputation  depended,  I 
should  crave  the  previous  notice  of  weeks,  if 
possible,  of  months  ;  but  might  not  put  pen  to 
paper  till  the  day  before  delivery.     I  keep  a 
subject  in  my  mind  till  the  last  moment ;  brood 
upon  it ;  if  need  be,  read  upon  it ;  shape  it, 
determine  in  what  order  I  shall  treat  it,  what 
I  can  say  upon  it ;  in  fine,  construct  the  sermon, 
essay   or    chapter,    in    my   thought,   so   that 
when  I  come  to  write,  I  am  simply  my  own 
amanuensis.     I  write  as  fast  as  my  pen   can 
run,  pausing  only  when  the  right  word  does 


THE    STEENGTH   OF   SIMPLICITY.  201 

not  present  itself  spontaneously.  When  I  have  A.  P. 
finished  nay  work,  I  read  aloud  what  I  have  ea  °  •?' 
written,  and  test  it  by  my  ear.  If  a  passage 
sounds  harshly,  I  change  the  words  sufficiently 
to  bring  it  into  melody.  If  I  have  used  the 
same  word  too  often,  my  ear  tells  me,  and  I 
substitute  a  synonym.  When  I  write  for  the 
press  my  first  manuscript  generally  goes  to 
the  printers.  When  I  write  a  sermon,  address, 
or  lecture,  I  abbreviate  many  of  my  words,  and 
write  a  manuscript  of  which  a  printer  could 
make  nothing ;  but  if  it  goes  to  be  printed,  I 
send  a  literal  copy,  without  any  revising  or 
re-writing.  Now,  if  I  have  any  merit  as  a 
writer,  I  ascribe  it  mainly  to  two  things,  first, 
to  my  early  conversance  with  the  best  writers ; 
secondly,  to  my  postponing  the  work  of  com 
position  till  I  have  fully  thought  out  what  I 
am  going  to  write."  I  insert  this  experience 
here,  because,  as  an  author,  Mr.  Peabody 
writes  always  in  a  simple  and  direct  style 
which  is  greatly  pleasing.  How  such  sim 
plicity  is  attained  cannot  but  be  instructive. 

BENJAMIN  JOWETT,  of  Balliol  College,  him-  B. 
self  one  of  the  noblest  masters  in  the  use  of 


202    THE  STRENGTH  OF  SIMPLICITY. 

•#•  the  English  tongue,  gives  the  following  advice  : 

J  "I  should  recommend  any  one  who  wants  to 

learn  the  art  of  composing  English  to  write 
simply  and  unaffectedly,  not  to  imitate  any 
English  author  in  particular,  any  more  than 
in  speaking  he  would  imitate  the  voice  or 
manner  of  another ;  and  to  take  all  the  pains 
he  can  even  with  a  common  letter.  Connec 
tion  is  the  soul  of  good  writing.  Figures  of 
speech  and  fine  passages  had  better  be  cut 
out." 

Dr.  A.  Dr.  A.  KUENEN,  the  great  Dutch  theologian 
Kuentn  Qf  j^uler^  writes  :  "  I  never  suspected  there 
was  anything  in  my  style  deserving  particular 
praise.  And  this  seems  to  be  the  opinion  of 
my  countrymen,  too.  The  only  quality  for 
which  they  have  ever  commended  it  is  its 
clearness  and  perspicuity.  In  fact,  in  writing 
I  do  not  trouble  myself  about  my  style.  My 
only  care  is  to  express  simply  and  clearly  what 
I  wish  to  say.  I  am  not  a  quick  writer,  and 
do  not  find  it  easy  to  realise  my  own  idea  of 
perspicuity.  Therefore,  it  is  my  custom  to  re 
write  my  first  sketch  or  draft,  whenever  the 
subject  is  difficult  or  clearness  particularly 


THE   STEENGTH  OF  SIMPLICITY.  203 

desirable.     So  you  see  there  is  no  question  of  Dr.  A. 
any  special  training.     If  there  be  any  secret  it  ****** 
has  been  disclosed  long  ago  :  never  write  upon 
a  subject  you  have  not  thoroughly  studied  and 
mastered   so   far   as   your  forces   go.      Or  as 
Horace  puts  it  in  the  well-known  words,  *  Cui 
lecta  potenter   erit  res,  nee  facundia   deseret 
hunc,  nee  lucidus  ordo* ): 

Dr.  HAKVEY  GOODWIN,  Lord  Bishop  of  Dr.  H. 
Carlisle,  the  author  of  many  theological  works, 
and  of  several  books  dealing  with  the  study  of 
mathematics,  says :  "  So  far  as  my  own  style 
of  writing  or  speaking  possesses  any  special 
clearness,  I  think  it  is  chiefly  due  to  my  Cam 
bridge  mathematical  training.  In  mathe 
matics  a  man  cannot  easily  deceive  himself  as 
to  whether  that  which  he  writes  is  correct  and 
clear,  and  he  cannot  possibly  deceive  his  tutor. 
Thus  the  constant  practice  of  writing  out 
mathematical  propositions  of  much  com 
plexity,  describing  scientific  instruments  and 
scientific  processes,  and  the  like,  leads  almost 
of  necessity  to  clearness  of  style  in  more 
ordinary  matters.  Moreover,  in  mathematics 
a  man  knows  that  it  is  of  no  use  to  put  pen  to 


204  THE   STEENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

Dr.  H.  paper  to  describe  a  process,  prove  a  theorem, 
win.  &c''  un^ess  kis  niind  is  quite  clear  with  regard 
to  the  whole  subject ;  and  this  is  an  important 
condition  of  intelligibility  and  clearness  of 
style.  In  writing  thus,  I  know  that  I  am  say 
ing  that  which  may  not  be  of  much  practical 
utility,  because  there  are  many  men  who  have 
good  ability,  who  have  not  the  mathematical 
ability.  I  apprehend  that  no  general  rule  can 
be  laid  down,  and  that  one  kind  of  training 
may  suit  one  man  and  not  another.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  can  add  any  more  from  my  own 
peculiar  experience  to  what  will  be  found  in 
books  upon  such  a  subject." 

A.  K.  H.  A.  K.  H.  Bo  YD,  the  genial  and  graceful 
Boyd.  author  of  "  Recreations  of  a  Country  Parson," 
says  :  "  My  experience  is  that  every  writer  has 
his  own  methods,  and  that  nobody  can  help 
another  in  the  work  of  composition.  Every 
one  must  find  one  for  himself.  I  had  no 
special  training  further  than  that  those  who 
study  at  a  Scotch  University  have  the  pen  in 
their  hand  continually,  and  thus  learn  by  ex 
perience.  All  counsels  to  study  eminent 
authors  and  form  a  style  such  as  theirs  appear 


THE    STEENGTH   OF   SIMPLICITY.  205 

to    me    to  be  rank  nonsense.      Let  a  youth.  A.  K.  H. 
make  his  meaning  clear,  and  try  to  be  interest-      °-    ' 
ing.     As  Sidney  Smith  said,  '  Every  style  is 
good  except  the  tiresome.' ' 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  can  lay  down  no  '  royal  G.  Raw- 
road  '  to  the  acquisition  of  a  good  style,"  says  ltnson- 
GEORGE  EAWLINSON,  the  eminent  historian  of 
ancient    monarchies    of    the    Eastern    world. 
"  I  can  only  say,  read  the  best  authors  atten 
tively,  the  very  best — Bacon,  Locke,  Hume, 
Berkeley,   Jeremy   Taylor,    and   of    moderns, 
Walter    Scott,    Bulwer,    Thackeray,   Kuskin, 
Froude ;    and  practise    constantly.      Do   not 
attempt  any  imitation  of  any  particular  author 
or  authors,  but  let  your  style  form  itself.     Lay 
a  good  foundation  of  grammatical  knowledge, 
so  as  to  be  quite  sure  of  your  grammar  ;  then 
avoid  complicated  sentences  ;   and,  as  a  rule, 
eschew  long  sentences.  Finally  have  something 
to  say,  make  up  your  mind  exactly  what  it  is 
you  want  to  say,   and  you  will  probably  not 
have  much  difficulty  in  saying  it.    Individually, 
however,  I  have  never  written  by  rule,  but  as 
the  subject  seemed  to  suggest,  as  the  thoughts 
came  into  my  mind.     I  write  rather  slowly, 


206         THE    STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

G.  Raw-  make  very  few  corrections ;  and  those  chiefly 
hnson.  j.Q  avoj£  foQ  recurrence  of  the  same  word,  or 
even  of  a  similarly  sounding  word,  at  too  short 
an  interval.  Finally,  I  should  recommend  the 
use  of  words  that  come  to  us  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  in  preference  to  those  derived  from  the 
Latin ;  but  with  the  proviso,  that  a  Latin  word 
should  not  be  rejected,  if  more  expressive  than 
the  Saxon,  or  more  familiar  or  clearer ;  and 
that  when  a  similar  idea  has  to  be  repeated 
within  a  short  space,  the  Latin  words  should 
be  even  sought  out,  and  used  conjointly  with 
the  Anglo-Saxon  to  produce  variety.  The  rich 
ness  of  the  English  language  consists  very 
much  in  its  having  a  double  origin,  and  so  a 
large  supply  of  synonyms,  or  quasi  synonyms, 
quite  different  in  sound  and  etymology." 

We  now  deal  with  quite  a  different  class  of 
writers.  Still,  it  will  be  seen  that,  vary  as 
they  may  in  the  subject-matter  of  their  work, 
their  methods  of  labour  have  much  in  common, 
while  their  purpose  is  always  the  same — to  be 
simple,  in  the  sense  of  being  clear,  perspicuous, 
transparent,  intelligible.  Take,  first,  the  well- 
known  "  Autocrat." 


THE    STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY.  207 

OLIVER  WENDELL    HOLMES,    philosopher,  O.  W. 
poet,   humorist — the  author  of  the  inimitable  -™-olmeSt 
"  Breakfast-table  "    series — writes    succinctly, 
clearly,  vividly,  and  has  always   a   charming 
story  to  tell  us,  or  a  valuable  lesson  to  teach. 
"  I  was  taught   for  five    years    at   a  private 
school,"  he  says,   "  and  passed    one    year   at 
Phillips's  Academy,  Andover,  Massachusetts. 
I  graduated  at  Harvard  University,  the  oldest 
and    largest     educational     establishment     of 
America.     But  I  never  learned  how  to  write 
by  any  training.     I  think  I  learned  something 
of  how  not  to  write   from  the   teachings   of 
Professor   Channing,  brother   of   the    famous 
William  Ellery  Channing.     After  leaving  col 
lege  I  followed  my  own  instincts  in  writing, 
not  having  any  one  model,  so  far  as  I  know, 
though   of    course   many  influences   of    other 
writers  show  themselves  in  my  books.  You  will 
find  it  a  safe  rule  never  to  write  except  when 
you  have  something  worth  saying,  and  then 
to  say  it  simply — as   Addison   wrote  in   The 
Spectator,  Goldsmith  in  the  '  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field,'  and  Franklin  in  his  Autobiography." 

HENRY  JAMES,  the  novelist,  is  an   author  Henry 

James. 


208          THE   STRENGTH   OF   SIMPLICITY. 

Henry  whose  work  is  marked  by  an  extraordinary 
refinement  and  finish,  though  it  lacks  the 
fire,  the  abandon,  the  sentiment  and  emotion, 
we  have  a  right  to  expect  from  a  master  hand. 
He  says,  "  The  question  of  literary  form  in 
terests  me  indeed,  but  I  am  afraid  I  can  give 
no  more  coherent  or  logical  account  of  any 
little  success  I  may  have  achieved  in  the 
cultivation  of  it  than  simply  in  saying  that 
I  have  always  been  fond  of  it.  If  I  manage  to 
write  with  any  clearness  or  concision  or  grace, 
it  is  simply  that  I  have  always  tried.  It  isn't 
easy,  and  one  must  always  try ;  for  the  traps 
that  newspaper  scribbling,  and  every  other 
vulgarity,  set  for  us  to-day  are  innumerable. 
It  is  an  advantage  when  the  sense  of  certain 
differences  awakes  early.  I  had  that  good  for 
tune,  which,  however,  made  me  compose  with 
mortal  slowness  at  first.  But  it  gave  birth  to 
the  idea  and  the  ideal  of  form,  and  that  is  a 
godsend  even  if  one  slowly  arrives  at  it.  A 
simple  style  is  really  a  complicated  thing,  and 
in  the  way  of  an  effort  an  evolution.  I  am 
afraid  mine,  if  I  have  one,  is  simply  taste  and 
patience." 


THE  STRENGTH  OF  SIMPLICITY.          209 

COLONEL  THOMAS  W.  KNOX  is  the  author   Colonel 

rr*          Tr 

of  a  number  of  story-books  for  boys— widely 
circulated  in  the  United  States — which  are 
certainly  among  the  most  instructive  and 
attractive  writings  for  young  people  ever 
issued.  "  I  had  no  special  training  for 
my  present  work,"  he  says,  "but  I  consider 
my  long  experience  in  journalism,  writing 
often  under  pressure  and  against  time,  a  most 
excellent  schooling.  Time  does  not  permit  a 
newspaper  worker  to  rewrite,  hardly  to  retouch, 
and  consequently  I  learned  to  do  my  best  work 
at  once.  I  compose  more  slowly  and  more 
carefully  now  than  when  writing  for  the  daily 
Press,  but  never  rewrite.  I  compose  my  work 
as  I  go  along,  and  when,  having  finished  a 
chapter,  I  read  it  over,  I  do  not  change  a  dozen 
words.  In  correcting  proof-sheets  I  only 
alter  a  few  lines  in  an  entire  volume.  How 
ever  familiar  I  may  be  with  a  country  I  am 
about  to  describe,  I  do  not  begin  writing  until 
I  have  devoted  weeks  and  months  to  a  special 
study  of  it.  Books,  newspapers,  magazines, 
individuals  are  laid  under  contribution,  and 
acknowledged  in  preface  or  text.  Work  does 
not  begin  until  I  am  thoroughly  saturated  with 


210  THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

Colonel  my  subject,  so  thoroughly,  in  fact,  that  exuda- 
^;  W.  tion  has  set  in,  and  I  find  myself  experiment 
ing  -with  anecdotes  about  that  country  upon 
the  patience  of  my  friends.  Since  1878  I  have 
done  all  my  composition  for  the  Press  with 
the  Remington  type-writer.  I  can  write  about 
25  per  cent,  faster  with  it  than  with  the  pen, 
and  about  100  per  cent,  more  legibly.  For 
the  first  three  months  it  was  slow  work,  and  I 
was  inclined  to  throw  the  machine  out  of  the 
window.  But  at  present  the  only  money  that 
would  induce  me  to  part  with  it  is  a  sufficient 
amount  to  enable  me  to  retire  altogether  from 
the  effort  to  make  a  liviog." 

E.  P.  E.  P.  ROE  is  said  to  be  the  most  popular 

•^oe'  American  novelist  of  the  day.  His  books, 
written  in  simple,  graceful  English,  are  full  of 
a  moral  and  spiritual  stimulus,  which  cannot 
but  be  productive  of  great  good  amongst  their 
vast  constituency  of  readers  here  and  in  the 
United  States.  His  recent  death  has  been  a 
sad  loss  to  literature,  and  to  the  many  lovers 
of  his  charming  tales.  "  I  fear  that  I  cannot 
write,"  he  says,  "  anything  that  will  be  of 
much  aid  to  you.  I  had  no  special  training 


THE   STRENGTH   OF   SIMPLICITY.  211 

for  literary  work,  except  as  a  somewhat  large  E.  P. 
experience  during  the  war,  and  out  in  the  Roe* 
world  generally,  has  given  me  knowledge  of 
human  nature.  The  impulse  to  write  came  in 
middle  life,  and  I  have  merely  followed  it.  Of 
course  those  who  become  writers  must  have 
some  natural  aptitude.  Beginning  with  this, 
they  must  learn  to  think  clearly,  to  have 
something  definite  in  their  minds,  then  to 
express  it  in  the  simplest,  clearest  words  in 
their  vocabulary.  A  clear  running  brook  is 
the  best  teacher  of  style.  There  is  a  quick 
forward  movement — but  not  measured  or  mono 
tonous  movement — while  the  water  is  so  limpid 
that  everything  is  seen  through  the  crystal 
medium.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  best  style 
is  that  which  reveals  the  writer's  thoughts  so 
easily,  plainly,  and  musically  that  the  reader 
becomes  engrossed  in  the  thought  or  story 
and  forgets  the  writer.  Therefore,  have  some 
thing  to  tell,  and  tell  it  clearly,  simply,  with 
out  a  trace  of  affectation  or  conscious  effort  at 
fine  writing.  I  should  advise  the  study  of 
examples  in  this  perfection  of  art." 

EDGAR  FAWCETT,  a  novelist  of  much  power  Edgar 

Fawcett. 


212  TBE   STEENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

Edgar  — widely  read  across  the  Atlantic,  but  little 
Fawcett.  known  here,  except  through  the  popular 
American  magazines,  to  which  he  often  con 
tributes — writes  to  say,  "  In  early  life  I  had 
the  usual  schoolboy's  training  as  regards 
'  English  undefiled ' ;  and  afterwards,  at  Colum 
bia  College,  New  York,  whence  I  was  gradu 
ated  in  1867,  I  had  the  advantage  of  hearing 
many  lectures  on  literature  from  Dr.  C.  Murray 
Nairne — a  Scotchman,  of  decided  learning  and 
ability.  Still,  what  I  have  gained,  if  the  gain 
be  of  any  worth  at  all,  has  come  to  me,  I 
should  say,  through  devout  observation  of  good 
models  and  assiduous  care  in  the  structure  of 
my  written  sentences.  Macaulay,  unless  I  am 
much  mistaken,  first  wakened  me  to  a  sense 
of  style  in  prose,  and  the  immortal  Tennyson 
in  verse.  I  remember  that  I  set  myself  three 
rules — to  be,  first  lucid,  second  impersonal,  and 
third  melodious.  A  great  deal  of  my  youthful 
writing  horrifies  me  now  to  examine  it ;  but 
fortunately  it  was  largely  anonymous,  or  else 
of  a  quality  which  the  world  of  contemporary 
readers  could  easily  forget.  I  believe  in  ob 
serving  rules.  Good  *  rhetorics  '  are  admirable 
guides,  and  there  is  no  literary  genius  that 


THE   STRENGTH   OF   SIMPLICITY.  213 

cannot  be  aided  in  closely  studying  these  accu-  Edgar 
mulated  syntheses  of  capable  and  intelligent 
teachers.  If  they  do  not  teach  us  to  write, 
they  teach  us  how  not  to  write  ;  and  that  is 
always  a  most  important  step  in  the  formation 
of  a  fluent,  nervous,  and  amiable  style.  It  is 
always  pleasant  for  me  to  hear  a  genial  voice 
from  England,  which  I  love  and  revere  for  her 
great  literary  past  more  than  any  words  of 
mine  could  express.  I  only  regret  that  I  should 
be  so  ill-known  amongst  her  vast  throngs  of 
intelligent  readers  ;  but,  alas !  I  write  in  my 
fiction  only  of  New  York ;  and  this  big, 
crowded,  prosaic  town  is  a  matter  of  as 
much  indifference  to  her,  I  fear,  as  some  of 
the  sprawling,  dull,  Western  cities  are  to  New 
York." 

W.  S.  GILBERT,  the  author  of  the  delightful    W.  S. 
"  Bab  Ballads,"  and  the  long  series  of  light   Gllbert' 
operas  and  sparkling  plays  which  have  made 
his  name  a  household  word   amongst  us,  is 
afraid  he   cannot   claim   to  have    made    any 
special   study   of    composition  in    his    youth. 
"  I  have    always  endeavoured,"  he  adds,  "  to 
express  my  meaning  in  the  most  simple  and 


214  THE    STRENGTH  OF    SIMPLICITY. 

W.  S.  direct  fashion,  frequently  writing  a  single  sen- 
Gilbert.  tence  over  and  over  again,  with  the  view  to 
ascertain  in  how  few  words  my  full  meaning 
could  be  adequately  expressed.  I  have  always 
eschewed  '  tall  writing,'  which  I  look  upon  as 
a  pitfall  into  which  most  beginners  are  apt  to 
stumble;  and  I  have  endeavoured  rather  to 
interest  my  readers  by  the  subject-matter  of 
my  work,  than  to  excite  their  admiration  by 
ornate  and  flowery  periods.  In  fact,  I  think  a 
writer's  style  should  be  guided  by  causes 
analogous  to  those  which  regulate  a  gentle 
man's  dress;  if  it  attracts  the  attention  of 
the  non-critical  reader,  it  is  probably  because 
it  is  disfigured  by  glaring  errors  in  taste.  The 
English  of  the  late  Tudor  and  early  Stuart 
periods  may,  I  think,  be  studied  with  the 
utmost  advantage ;  for  simplicity,  directness, 
and  perspicuity  there  is,  in  my  opinion,  no 
existing  work  to  be  compared  with  the  his 
torical  books  of  the  Bible." 

Thomas         THOMAS  HUGHES,  the  author  of  that  noble 

Hughes,     story,   "  Tom  Brown's  School  Days,"  writes  : 

"  I  never  gave  myself  any  special  training  in 

writing   English    beyond   this,   that    when  I 


THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY.  215 

began  to  write  I  used  to  go  over  my  MS.  care-   Thomas 

TT         I 

fully,  change  every  Latin  word  for  an  English 
one  (eg., '  reliable  '  for  '  trustworthy/  '  develop 
ment  '  for  '  unfolding,'  &c.),  and  cut  out  every 
adjective  or  other  word  not  really  necessary  to 
express  what  I  had  to  say.  I  don't  believe 
that  any  amount  of  copying  will  make  another 
man's  style  natural  to  you  ;  and  if  not  natural, 
it  won't  really  be  as  good  as  your  own.  But, 
indeed,  any  style  is  good  if  you  have  something 
you  have  a  call  to  say,  and  men  ought  to  hear ; 
and  no  style  is  good  if  you  hav'iit.  I  am  afraid 
that  I  can  give  you  no  further  hints  on  the  art 
of  composition,  but  wish  your  young  men  all 
success  in  learning  to  say  in  the  best  way 
what  they  have  got  to  say,  and  to  hold  their 
tongues  and  let  the  cream  rise  at  all  other 
times." 

JOHN  STUART   BLACKIE,   the  large-hearted  y.  s. 
and  genial  Edinburgh  professor,  writes  to  say  :  Blackie. 
"  I  never  made  any  special  study  of  style,  and 
whatever  virtue  I  may  have  in  this  way  grew 
up   as  my  mind   grew,  unconsciously.     Style 
seems     to    depend     on    three    things,    (1)    a 

mental  attitude  and  character,  (2)  a  familiarity 
15 


216  THE   STEENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

/.  S.  with  the  best  authors,  (3)  dexterity  in  the  use 
tflackie.  Q£  worflgj  acquired  by  constant  practice.  So 
we  must  learn  to  speak  by  speaking,  as  we 
learn  to  walk  by  walking,  or  to  dance  by 
dancing.  The  main  thing  in  writing  is  to 
have  distinct,  and  clear,  and  well-marshalled 
ideas,  and  then  to  express  them  simply  and 
without  affectation.  This  forms  what  we  may 
call  the  bones  of  a  good  style.  Then  you 
must  study  to  give  colour  by  apt  images,  and 
warmth  by  natural  passion  and  earnestness. 
The  music  of  words  and  the  cadence  of 
sentences  is  a  matter  which  depends  on  the 
ear.  Above  all  things  monotony  in  the  form 
of  the  sentences  is  to  be  avoided  ;  variety 
means  wealth  and  always  pleases.  Conden 
sation  also  ought  to  be  particularly  studied, 
and  a  loose,  rambling,  ill-compacted  form  of 
sentence  avoided.  But  it  is  difficult  to  give 
advice  in  such  a  matter.  Every  man  must 
have  his  own  style,  as  he  has  his  own  face 
and  his  own  features." 

D.  C.  D.  CHRISTIE  MURRAY,  whose  well-ripened 

Murray,    imagination,  finished  workmanship,  and  vivid 

character-portraits  mark  him  out  as  a  novelist. 


THE    STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY.  217 

of  high  order,  has  something  to  say  upon  our  D.  C. 
topic  worth  consideration.  "  I  have  always  Murray. 
thought  there  is  only  one  royal  road  to  style, 
and  that  is  to  see  with  perfect  clarity  what 
one  desires  to  say.  "When  once  that  is  done, 
the  expression  is  a  matter  of  ease.  The  next 
secret  is  to  find  the  shortest,  simplest  form 
of  expression.  A  man  has  other  duties  with 
respect  to  literature  than  to  make  himself 
intelligible  to  the  crowd.  *  The  words  of  the 
wise  and  their  dark  sayings/  you  will 
remember.  There  are  some  things  which, 
cannot  be  made  comprehensible  to  the  common 
mind  ;  but  the  affectation  of  obscurity,  the 
wrapping  a  mere  far  thing's- worth  of  meaning 
in  a  whole  bale  of  verbiage,  is  a  fool's  trick 
and  no  more.  I  remember  that  when  Mr. 
Commissioner  Kerr  issued  an  address  to 
the  electors  of  Wednesbury  he  said,  *  I 
have  no  time  to  be  brief/  That  is  a  pungent 
sentence.  Brevity,  clarity,  accuracy,  fulness, 
these  are  the  things  to  try  for.  I  am  not  iu 
the  least  setting  these  down  in  accordance  ^ 
with  their  importance.  Truth  comes  first  here 
as  in  everything.  I  remember  an  excellent 
epithet  in  a  book  of  American  travels,  by 


218          THE   STRENGTH  OF  SIMPLICITY. 

D.  C.  Mrs.  Butler  (Miss  Fanny  Kemble),  I  believe, 
Murray.  ,  The  desolate>  thread-bare  look  of  the  winter 
woods.'  That  may  have  come  in  a  flash,  or 
she  may  have  had  to  search  for  it ;  but  it  is 
descriptively  true,  and  conveys  also  a  sense 
of  the  poverty  of  winter  nature  in  contrast 
with  the  splendour  of  her  summer  prosperity. 
The  poetical  word  is  never  the  untrue  or  over 
strained  word,  but  always  that  which  presents 
the  actual  verity  most  clearly.  Take  Shake 
speare's  lines : 

*  There's  not  the  smallest  orb  that  then  behold'st 
But  in  his  circle  like  an  angel  sings 
Still  quivering  to  the  young-eyed  cherubim  ! ' 

Here,  where  all  is  beautiful,  there  is  nothing 
to  match  the  perfect  inspiration  of  the 
epithet  in  the  third  line — '  the  young-eyed 
cherubim.'  The  poet  looked  at  his  own 
imagination  till  the  starry  eyes,  alight  with 
immortal  youth,  flashed  into  his  own.  He 
saw  and  he  could  say.  The  insight  of  a 
profound  and  lofty  imagination  is  not  a  thing 
•••>  to  be  got  at  by  training,  but  the  humblest 
student  can  look  at  his  own  thought  till  it 
grows  clear,  or  at  least  clearer. 

"  Bearing  this  in  mind  always,  the  one  aid 


THE    STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY.  219 

is  thoughtful  and  discriminate  reading.    There   D.  C. 
is  a  book  of  Leigh  Hunt's,  called  '  Fancy  and   Murray. 
Imagination,'  which  was  of  prodigious  use  to 
me   in  my   boyhood     in    teaching    me    what 
qualities  are  truly  admirable  in  poetry.     The 
same  qualities  are  admirable  in  prose.     Every 
modern  man's  style  is  a  thing  of  shreds  and 
patches — only  when  a  man  happens  to  have  a 
personality  of  his  own  he  absorbs  a  thousand 
exotic   excellences,  the  mind  digesting  them 
as  the  body  digests  beef  and  beer — they  grow 
to   be  an  actual  part   of  his  mental  muscles ; 
whereas,  in  the  case  of   an  unoriginal   man, 
they  can  but  reproduce  themselves,  or  get  re 
produced  unchanged.       Sometimes,    critically 
examining  my  own  style,  I  find  signs  of  every 
master   I  have  ever   studied.     Charles  Eeade 
said  of  '  The  Cloister  and  the  Inearth,'  '  I  have 
milked  three   hundred  cows  into  my  bucket.' 
But  then  the  butter  he  churned  was  his  own, 
and  as   one  of  the    personages    at    the     tea- 
table  in     '  Alice    in    Wonderland '    observed, 
'  it  was  the  very  best  butter/ 

"  To  try  to  be  striking,  new,  fine,  is  all 
faulty.  Try  to  see  clearly,  to  speak  justly,  and 
you  are  on  the  road  to  a  style.  *  Idiom  is  the 


220  THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

D.  C.  cream  of  language.'  Use  common  forms  for 
Murray,  thoughts  which  have  often  heen  expressed.  I 
remember  one  man  saying  of  another,  that  '  he 
never  clothed  a  modicum  of  meaning  in  a  long 
array  of  misapplied  polysyllables,'  an  excellent 
example  of  the  vice  he  said  his  friend  was  free 
from.  Avoid  foreign  phrases,  and  scraps  of 
the  dead  languages.  There  is  nothing  which 
can  be  said  at  all  which  cannot  be  said  in 
English.  Be  simple  and  unpretentious.  If 
you  get  all  your  goods  into  the  shop  wdndow, 
you  have  but  a  poor  establishment.  Throw 
fear  and  vanity  alike  to  the  winds  while 
writing.  Say  the  thing  you  see  as  you  see  it, 
and  bend  the  whole  power  of  your  mind  upon 
it  until  you  see  it  well.  Avoid  newspaper 
English  like  a  pest.  Study  the  Bible,  Banyan, 
Defoe,  and  mark  their  simplicity,  their 
straightforwardness,  their  accuracy  in  the 
choice  of  words.  Few  things  are  so  wonderful 
as  language;  few  things  better  worth  study 
ing.  Yet  we  cannot  study  language  except  in 
the  works  of  its  great  masters,  and  studying 
it  aright  we  grow  friendly  and  familiar  with 
noble  thoughts  and  beautiful  fancies;  we 
decorate  the  bare  four  walls  of  daily  life  with 


THE    STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY.  221 

exquisite  pictures  ;  we  make  friends   with  all  D.  C. 
sorts   and    conditions    of    people,    emperors,  Murray 
queens,  poets,  philosophers,  wits,  heroes — the 
height  of  good  company." 

E.  FRANCES  POYNTER,  the  author  of  a  few  Miss 

well- written  and  most  interesting  stories,  says  &•  *• 

Poynter. 
she  had  not  the  good  fortune  to  receive  any 

particular  training  in  the  art  of  composition 
in  early  life.  "  My  chief  method,  I  think, 
has  been  a  continued  effort  after  simple  and 
adequate  expression.  But  since  all  practice 
has  a  tendency  to  reduce  itself  to  rules,  there 
are  two  or  three  points  that  I  have  come  to 
consider  it  necessary  to  keep  in  view  in 
writing,  and  that  I  should,  myself,  recommend 
to  the  notice  of  beginners.  The  first  is  to 
have  a  distinct  view  of  what  has  to  be  de 
scribed,  and  a  distinct  understanding  of  what 
has  to  be  explained.  This  remark  is  very 
much  in  the  nature  of  a  truism ;  but  most 
writers,  I  imagine,  have  had  experience  of  the 
temptation  on  occasion  to  make  words  take 
the  place  of  ideas  when  gaps  occur  in  the 
mental  vision.  Having  arrived  at  this  clear 
vision  or  understanding,  it  should  be  set  forth 


222  THE    STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

Miss         in  as  few  words  as  possible.     This  does  not  of 

^-  •**•         course  necessarily  imply  that  only  a  few  words 
Poynter.  y.  f 

should  be  used,  since  some  subjects  require  a 

good  many  for  their  adequate  expression  ;  but 
only  that  no  more  words  should  be  employed 
than  are  strictly  necessary.  As  a  rule,  I  think, 
one  finds  that  the  best  writing  tends  to  con 
densation  and  terseness  ;  that  three  adjectives, 
for  instance,  justly  placed  by  a  master,  will  do 
the  service  of  a  dozen  used  by  an  unskilful 
writer.  I  do  not  myself,  though  I  believe  on 
this  point  I  differ  from  some  excellent  autho 
rities,  hold  the  use  of  a  very  large  and  varied 
vocabulary  to  be  an  especial  gain.  However, 
a  writer  should  be  in  possession  of  as  large  a 
vocabulary  as  possible,  so  as  to  select  the  word 
best  suited  to  his  purpose  without  falling  into 
triteness  and  vulgarity.  Simplicity,  it  seems 
to  me,  is  always  an  excellent  guide  to  follow, 
whether  in  the  choice  of  words,  or  the  con 
struction  of  sentences,  where  those  words 
should,  so  far  as  possible,  be  placed  in  juxta 
position  that  have  the  closest  relation  to  each 
other.  This  rule,  however,  I  do  not  find  it 
possible  to  follow  invariably,  as  something 
must  be  conceded  to  rhythm.  And,  in  regard 


THE   STRENGTH   OF   SIMPLICITY.  223 

to  rhythm,  that  is  so  much  a  question  of  ear  Miss 
that  I  do  not  know  how  any  rule  could  be  „'  t  ' 
given  beyond  the  counsel  to  educate  the  sense 
by  reading  the  best  prose  and  avoiding  what 
is  inferior.  Briefly,  then,  I  may  say  that  the 
rules  I  find  most  serviceable  are — to  see  with 
clearness,  to  express  with  simplicity  and  pre 
cision,  to  cultivate  distinction  in  the  choice  of 
a  vocabulary,  to  educate  an  ear  for  rhythm. 
To  put  these  rules  into  practice  I  know  of  no 
art  but  the  art  of  taking  pains.  I  myself  re 
write  and  correct  a  good  deal,  others  do  not ; 
but  I  believe  every  writer  should  start  with 
the  conviction  that  there  is  a  right  word  and  a 
right  phrase  for  everything,  and  that  no  trouble 
should  be  spared  to  find  them  out." 


Mrs.  ALEXANDER  (Annie  Hector),  the  author  Mrs. 
of  "  The  Wooing  O't  "  and  other  spirited,  dra-  AJex' 
matic  stories,  written  with  animation,  force,  c 
and  vivid  painting  of  character,  says  :  "  I  have 
been  trying  to  rem.ember  how  I  came  to  think 
of  writing,  for  in  truth  there  has  been  little  or 
no  method  in  anything  I  have  ever  done.     I 
suppose  an  ear  for  music  and  some  imagina 
tion  enable  me  to  write.      Having  no  play- 


224  THE   STEENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

Mrs.         fellows,  I  turned,  almost  as  a  child,  to  books, 

A  Jaw 

anj~r        and    steeped    myself    in    Scott,   Washington 
Irving,  Byron,  Cowper,  Burns,  Cooper,  Moore, 
Robertson,  Rollin,  &c.     I  saw  the  scenes  and 
knew  the  people  they   described.     This  was 
the  best  education  I  had ;  for  fifty  years  ago 
young  ladies'  studies  were  curious  examples  of 
how  '  not  to  do  it.'     I  am  not  aware  that  I 
ever  studied  how  to  express  myself,  or  followed 
any  rules,  nor  had  I  any  literary  friends ;  but 
one  day  a  couple  of  characters  took  possession 
of  me,  and  I  was  obliged  to  put  them  on  paper, 
where  they  dictated  their  own  terms.     With 
practice  I  acquired  better  methods.     Always, 
however,  I  think  of  my  characters  first,  then 
the  incidents  come,  and  I  plan  my  plot,  trying 
hard  to  be  as  natural  as  possible.     Plots  are 
growing  more  difficult  of   construction  every 
day  from  the  crowds  of  new  writers  and  the 
multitudes  of  fresh  complications  they  invent. 
But  life  is  inexhaustible  !     So  far  as  I  can  see 
there  are  no   rules  to  be  laid  down  for  com 
position,  beyond  what   the   grammar   of  our 
tongue  provides,  an  earnest  conviction  of  the 
reality  of  one's  characters,  and  a  sincere  effort 
to  tell  one's  story  in  the  clearest  and  simplest 


THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY.  225 

language.    The  more  you  feel,  the  more  forcibly  Mrs. 
you  will  express  yourself  on  paper.     The  best  ^^ 
means  of  fructifying  the   intellect   are   wide, 
indiscriminate    reading,   a    large    and  varied 
intercourse  with  society,  and  above  all,  sym 
pathy,  which  reveals  to  you  the  hearts  of  your 
fellows." 

GEEALD  MASSET,  poet,  mystic,  author  of  "  A  Gerald 
Book  of  Beginnings,"  says  :  "  I  have  no  story  to  Massey- 
tell  and  no  secret  to  communicate.  I  never 
tried  to  imitate  anybody,  and  have  never  been 
conscious  of  any  aim  in  the  matter  of  style. 
I  began  with  writing  verses,  which  is  a  very 
good  preparatory  school  for  writing  prose. 
Not  that  one  would  expect  a  man  to  write 
good  prose  because  he  might  have  written 
bad  verse.  But  it  teaches  concentration,  and 
necessitates  some  thought  in  the  process,  even 
where  there  may  be  little  in  the  brain.  I 
should  think  it  would  be  fatal,  in  writing  as  in 
manner,  to  attempt  to  *  put  on  style.'  Better 
begin  by  saying  what  you  have  to  say  in  the 
simplest  sincerity,  in  the  fewest  and  shortest 
words.  The  use  of  latinisation  should  be  left 
to  the  later  sense  of  rhythm  and  music  in 


226  THE   STRENGTH    OF  SIMPLICITY. 

Gerald     words.     The  primary  thing  is  to  think  clearly, 
Massey.      ftnd    to   have  ^  ^^  to     Q        ^     porce  of 


style  can  only  come  from  force  of  character, 
with  plenty  of  practice.  Many  a  glib  sentence 
will  have  been  rolled  in  a  writer's  mind  for 
hours  before  it  becomes  a  bullet  or  a  polished 
pebble.  For  myself,  I  have  come  to  think 
much  less  of  the  mere  literary  mind,  and  more 
of  the  substance  or  matter  of  thought.  Then 
again,  I  hold  that  we  can  draw  more  from 
the  spiritual  world  than  from  all  the  books  ever 
written  in  this.  Bat  the  only  way  to  establish 
that  rapport  is  by  devotion  to  the  fact,  by 
having  a  perfect  passion  for  the  truth,  and  by 
uttering  it  with  the  most  unselfish  sincerity. 
Then  the  style  may  be  left  to  take  care  of 
itself." 

Coventry  A.  poet  of  the  more  homely  type,  COVENTRY 
Patmore.  PATMORE,  also  affirms  that  he  has  never 
thought  about  or  cultivated  style.  "  I 
believe  the  one  secret  of  good  writing,"  he 
says,  "is  to  have  perfectly  clear  thoughts  and 
vivid  impressions  of  things,  and  never  to  be 
contented  with  any  inadequate  expression  of 
them." 


THE    STRENGTH    OF   SIMPLICITY.  227 

"  For    precepts  of    style,"    says    GOLDWIN  Goldwin 
SMITH,    "  you    must    go    to   the    masters   of  ^mit"- 
style,  and  for  lessons  in  the  art  of  composition 
you  must  go   to  artists.     My  only  rule  is  to 
know  what  I  mean  to  say,  to  say  it,  and  have 
done  with  it.     Clearness  and  conciseness  are 
within  the  reach    of   all  of  us,  though  gran 
deur,  beauty,  and  piquancy  are  not," 

ERNEST  MYERS,  an  accomplished  critic  and  Ernest 
an  admirable  poet,  attributes  whatever  sim- 
plicity  and  force  there  may  be  in  his  style  to 
the  effect  of  early  studies  in  translating  passages 
from  the  masterpieces  of  the  great  Greek  and 
Latin  authors.  "  Next  to  this,"  he  says,  "  I 
think  my  style  may  have  benefited  by  the  fact 
that  I  write  slowly  and  seldom.  There  is  incon 
venience  and  disadvantage  in  this,  but  at  the 
same  time  it  forces  one,  so  to  speak,  to  make 
one's  words  tell.  I  strike  out  superfluous  words, 
perhaps  sometimes  to  the  extent  of  producing 
austerity  in  poetry  and  over-condensation  in 
prose,  eschew  Latin  words  where  Saxon  will 
do,  and  if  I  use  Latin  words,  keep  the  full 
etymological  sense  in  view  so  far  as  may  be 
done  without  pedantry.  I  am  naturally 


228          THE   STRENGTH  OF  SIMPLICITY. 

Ernest  impatient  of  redundancy  and  repetition  in 
i  yers.  wnat  J  read,  and  of  course  in  writing  one 
tries  to  satisfy  one's  own  taste.  Among  living 
prose  writers  I  should  be  inclined  to  name 
Mr.  Goldwin  Smith  and  Cardinal  Newman  as 
the  finest  and  best  in  style.  In  poetry  I  think 
that  I  have  myself  been  more  influenced  by 
Milton  than  any  other  English  poet." 

Leslie  LESLIE  STEPHEN,  a  scholarly  writer,   who 

Stephen.  may  pg^apg  be  besfc  classed  amongst  the  his 
torians  of  literature,  thinks  that  his  own 
experience  may  be  summed  up  in  the  Needy 
Knife-grinder's  statement :  "  Story,  God  bless 
you,  I  have  none  to  tell,  Sir  !  "  He  says,  "  I 
did  not  take  to  literature  until  I  was  over 
thirty,  and  then,  less  from  love  of  writing  than 
from  external  compulsion.  I  had  taken  a  con 
siderable  interest  in  certain  studies  of  the 
more  or  less  philosophical  kind,  and  I  had 
gone  through  our  good  old  Cambridge  mathe 
matical  course.  When  I  had  to  write,  I 
simply  tried  to  say  what  I  had  to  say  as 
clearly  as  I  could ;  much  in  the  same  way  aa 
if  I  had  been  going  in  for  the  Tripos.  It 
scarcely  occurred  to  me  that  there  was  such 


THE    STRENGTH   OF    SIMPLICITY.  229 

a  thing  as  style  as  distinct  from  matter ;  and  Leslie 
whatever  style  I  may  have  has  come  to  me,  Stephen. 
like  Dogberry's  reading  and  writing,  by  nature. 
I  do  not  perceive  that  I  have  anything  to  be 
called  a  style,  as  Mr.  Morley,  for  example,  or 
Mr.  Pater,  or  Mr.  Stevenson  have  styles: 
and  if  anybody  should  be  so  misguided  as  to 
wish  to  write  like  me,  he  must  do  it  by  think 
ing  of  nothing  except  clearness  and  simply 
expressing  his  meaning.  I  am  far  from  recom 
mending  my  own  example  for  everybody.  I 
believe  that  study  of  style,  as  style,  may  be 
useful  for  men  with  a  talent  that  way ;  but 
I  must  leave  it  to  more  successful  writers  to 
explain  how  it  is  to  be  carried  on.  My  plan, 
if  it  is  to  be  called  a  plan,  is,  I  fancy,  not  a 
bad  one  for  the  ordinary  writer." 

W.  E.   II.  LECKT,  a  historian  of  wide  re-    W.  E. 
search   and   brilliant   style,   never  made   any  H-Lc& 
methodical  study  of  composition.      "  I  have 
always  cared  much  for  style,"  he  says,  "  and 
have   endeavoured  to   improve    my    own    by 
reading  a  great  deal  of  the  best  English  and 
French  prose.     In  writing,  as  in  music,  much 
of  the  perfection  of  style  is  a  question  of  ear ; 


230  THE   STRENGTH    OF   SIMPLICITY. 

W.  E.  but  much  also  depends  on  the  ideal  the  writer 
H.Lecky.  sets  before  himself.  He  ought,  I  think,  to 
aim  (1)  at  the  greatest  possible  simplicity  and 
accuracy  of  expression,  (2)  at  vivacity  and 
force,  (3)  at  condensation.  The  last  two  heads 
will  usually  be  found  to  blend  ;  for  condensa 
tion,  when  it  is  not  attained  at  the  sacrifice  of 
clearness,  is  the  great  secret  of  force.  I  should 
say,  from  my  own  experience,  that  most  im 
provements  of  style  are  of  the  nature  either 
of  condensation  or  of  increased  accuracy  and 
delicacy  of  distinction.  Many  separate  fibres 
of  thought  are  apt  to  get  tangled  or  massed 
together  in  vague  and  general  expressions,  and 
it  is  the  task  of  a  good  writer  to  count  them 
out,  giving  each  its  distinct  individuality.  He 
should  write  no  phrase  which  does  not  convey 
a  clear  and  definite  meaning  to  his  mind, 
should  endeavour  to  make  the  words  fit  as 
closely  as  possible  to  the  meaning,  and  should 
wage  an  unsparing  war  against  redundancies, 
against  slang,  and  against  merely  conven 
tional  and  unmeaning  phrases." 

S.  R.  Another  powerful  living  historian,  SAMUEL 

^ar~         B.  GARDINER,  says :  "  I  fear  I  can  throw  very 
diner. 


THE   STRENGTH   OF   SIMPLICITY.  231 

little  light  on  the  subject,  as  when  I  was  at   S.  Jt. 
Winchester  and  Oxford  it  was  not  the  fashion    ^ar- 
to  teach  the  writing  of  English  in  any  way. 
I  have  simply  tried  to  know  what  I  want  to 
say,  and  to  say  it  so  that  others  should  know 
what  it  is ;  and  also  to  have  clearly  in  my  own 
mind  the  thread  of  my   narrative,    so   as   to 
put  things  in   their   proper   relations  to   one 
another." 

Brief  replies  from  two  scientific  authors  may   SirJ. 
oe  inserted  here.     SIR  JOHN  LUBBOCK  says :   Lubbock- 
"  Beyond   carefully  reading   our  best   writers 
and  endeavouring  to  make  myself  as  clear  as 
possible,   I  have   followed  no   rule.     My  im 
pression  is   that   there  is   no   better   way   to 
improve  one's  style  than  by  the  study  of  the 
greatest  masters  of  English." 

ST.  GEORGE  MIVART  writes  :  "  I  have  never  St.  Geo. 
in  my  life  considered  the  construction  of  a 
sentence  I  wrote;  what  has  come,  has  come 
without  conscious  effort.  Though  I  went 
through  the  usual  Greek  and  Latin  authors, 
I  was  never  a  good  classical  scholar.  If  I  am 
clear,  I  think  it  must  be  due  to  a  habit  of  mind 
16 


232  THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

St.  Geo.  which  has  always  led  me  to  try  and  acquire 
Aftvart.  precise  an(j  accurate  ideas  about  any  subject 
I  inquired  into,  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  things 
as  far  as  possible.  As  a  boy,  I  was  particularly 
fond  of  Euclid,  and  the  judgment  passed  on  my 
scientific  work  by  a  man  well  able  to  judge 
(the  late  Professor  Peters,  of  Berlin)  was,  that 
it  was  '  thorough.'  This  he  expressed  one  day 
to  my  friend,  Professor  Flower,  of  the  British 
Museum,  who  told  me  of  it.  When  I  write  I 
scribble  off  my  thoughts  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  then  for  the  most  part  rewrite.5' 

John  JOHN  BUKROTJGHS,  a  gifted  American  essayist, 

roughs  wnose  charming  studies  have  a  wide  circle  of 
readers  here  as  well  as  in  the  United  States, 
writes  to  say  :  "I  suppose  the  secret  of  what 
ever  there  is  valuable  in  one's  style  is  quite  in 
communicable  :  it  lies  above  and  beyond  one's 
will  or  one's  conscious  attainment.  In  my  own 
case  I  only  know  that  I  always  do  the  best 
work  I  am  capable  of  at  the  time,  and  never 
force  myself  to  write  against  the  mood.  I 
must  feel  the  thing  first,  and  then  I  can  say  It ; 
I  must  love  the  subject  upon  which  I  write,  it 
must  adhere  to  me,  and  for  the  time  being 


THE   STRENGTH   OF  SIMPLICITY.  233 

become  a  part  of  me.     I  write  only  in  the  John 
morning   hours    and  when  I   am   in  perfect 
health,  and  for  only  three  or  four  months  in 
the   year — fall   and   winter.      My  youth   and 
early  training  made  me  acquainted  with  things, 
and  not  with  books.     I  was  a  farm  boy,  and 
my  love  of  nature  is  as  old   as   I   am.     My 
desire  to  write  began  when  I  was  sixteen  or 
seventeen.     I  got  hold  of  The  Spectator,  and 
read  it   closely;   then  Dr.  Johnson's  Essays, 
and  read  and  studied  them ;  then  Emerson's 
Essays.      These    last     influenced    me     most 
deeply  ;  I  lived  upon  them  for  years.     Shake 
speare,  too,  I  studied,  and  Carlyle,  and  all  the 
masters  of  expression  I  could  lay  hands  on. 
The  great  classics  I  have  read  only  in  transla 
tions.     A  man,  to  write  well,  must  be  perfectly 
sincere   and  honest  with  himself,  and  try  to 
express     only     what    he    feels     and    knows. 
Earnestness  is   the   great   secret    of   forcible 
composition.     I  should  advise  the  young  to 
study  Matthew  Arnold,  who,  I  think,  is  one 
of  the   great   masters  of  English  style.     Lu 
cidity — lucidity,  that  is  the  word,  clear  as  the 
open  daylight  from  beginning  to  end.     Unless 
the  idea  is  as  plain  and  palpable,  as  real  in  the 


234  THE   STEENGTH  OF    SIMPLICITY. 

John          print,  as  are  the  trees  in  the  field  or  the  men 
**\        in  the  street,  the  work  is  faulty." 

C.  D.  CHAELES   DUDLEY   WAENEB,    one    of   the 

Warner,  brightest  and  most  interesting  essayists  of 
America,  writes  :  "  Most  people,  I  suspect, 
begin  to  write  before  they  have  anything  to 
say.  I  did.  I  remember  that  at  the  age  of 
sixteen  I  thought  a  great  deal  more  of  how  a 
thing  should  be  said  than  what  to  say.  I  used 
to  have  a  habit  of  walking  up  and  down  and 
composing  a  sentence,  with  attention  to  its 
symmetrical  quality,  before  writing  it.  I 
practised  this  a  good  deal,  and  though  I  was 
reading  Irving  at  the  time  and  was  influenced 
by  him,  I  did  not  acquire  his  diffuseness  and 
facility  of  enlarging.  During  my  college  days 
I  think  I  was  benefited  more  by  my  corres 
pondence  than  anything  else.  I  wrote  a  letter 
every  day,  as  good  a  letter  as  I  could  write,  for 
most  of  my  correspondents  were  ladies  of 
cultivation,  considerably  older  than  I.  There 
is  nothing  so  good  as  this  sort  of  letter- writing 
to  give  flexibility  to  style.  Later  on  in  life, 
when  I  became  an  editor,  and  was  subject  to 
the  limitations  of  space,  I  perhaps  got  into  the 


THE   STRENGTH  OF    SIMPLICITY.  235 

bad  habit  of  condensing  too  much  for  clear-  C.  D* 
ness,  and  lost  something  of  my  power  of 
amplification.  But  since  I  have  had,  or 
thought  I  had,  something  to  say,  I  have  had 
only  one  rule,  to  say  it  in  the  simplest  way, 
choosing  always  an  adequate,  short  word 
instead  of  a  long  one,  and  one  commonly  in 
use  rather  than  one  erudite.  I  have  steadily 
endeavoured  to  lessen  the  number  of  my 
adjectives,  and  to  avoid  what  is  called  fine 
writing.  I  have  tried  also  to  eschew  the  use 
of  quotations  ;  that  is,  the  expressing  of  my 
thoughts  in  phrases  the  memory  may  suggest, 
which  is  often  the  easiest  way.  While  a  writer 
ought  not  to  strain  for  brilliant  expression,  he 
ought  not  to  fall  into  the  inevitable  common 
place  which  memory  prompts.  If  a  person  has 
a  clear  thought  that  is  his  own,  he  will  be  apt 
to  use  language  freely  in  expressing  it ;  and  his 
chief  care,  it  seems  to  me,  should  be  to  send 
his  thought  as  straight  to  the  brain  of  another 
as  he  can.  There  is  no  excuse  for  obscurity 
or  pedantry.  I  believe  in  a  personal  style, 
and  I  acknowledge  its  charm.  It  should  be 
a  thing  of  the  person,  never  copied.  Beading 
the  best  English  certainly  tends  to  make  one 


236          THE   STEENGTH  OF    SIMPLICITY. 

C.  D.       write  correctly,  but  the  style  should  come  out 

iet'    of  one's  own  nature   in   a   sincere    effort   to 

express  oneself.     No  imitation,  however  good, 

ever    yet     added     anything    permanent     to 

literature." 


William  The  series  of  contributions  contained  in  this 
Mmto.  chapter  may  appropriately  be  brought  to  a 
close  by  some  valuable  suggestions  generously 
placed  at  our  disposal  by  WILLIAM  MINTO, 
Professor  at  Aberdeen  University,  and  the 
author  of  several  books,  amongst  them  a  few 
notable  novels,  written  with  great  ability  and 
charm  of  style.  He  says :  "  As  a  professor,  part 
of  whose  business  is  to  lecture  on  the  prin 
ciples  of  composition,  I  think  there  is  some 
use  in  advice  on  the  subject.  Only  I  draw  a 
clear  distinction.  The  one  kind  of  composi 
tion  for  which  rules  and  principles  are  of 
service,  is  composition  whose  aim  is  to 
instruct  or  communicate  knowledge.  If  one's 
object  is  to  entertain,  or  even  to  rouse,  to  touch 
the  feelings  in  any  way,  I  doubt  whether 
one  is  not  hampered  rather  than  helped  by  any 
rules  that  are  not  of  one's  own  devising. 
Therein  the  writer  must  minister  to  himself. 


THE   STKENGTH    OF   SIMPLICITY.  237 

Of  course  there   are  principles  in    art,  but  I    William 
doubt  whether  the  learner  can  get  much  from  Mlnto- 
the  formal  statement  of  them. 

"  But  if  it  is  a  question  of  communicating 
knowledge,  the  case  is  different.  Given  a 
certain  series  of  ideas  to  be  passed  from  one  to 
another,  bit  by  bit,  unit  by  unit,  as  a  crowd 
passes  one  by  one  through  a  narrow  opening, 
there  must  be  one  order  better  than  another. 
A  theatre  can  be  emptied  more  quickly  by 
good  arrangement  than  if  the  matter  is  left  to 
chance.  And  in  writing,  the  problem  is  still 
more  difficult  than  emptying  a  theatre,  or 
bottle  of  water.  You  have  to  get  your  water 
out  of  one  narrow-necked  bottle  into  another, 
spilling  as  little  as  possible  by  the  way. 

"  There  are  one  or  two  general  principles 
that  I  am  in  the  habit  of  laying  down  to  my 
students.  One  is  not  to  overcrowd,  not  to  try 
to  say  too  much  in  a  sentence  or  a  paragraph, 
or  even  an  essay  or  a  sermon.  Have  one,  or 
a  few,  leading  ideas,  and  stick  to  them  as 
closely  as  possible.  Whatever  you  bring  in, 
see  that  it  has  some  connection  with  your 
main  theme.  But,  indeed,  it  has  always 
seemed  to  me  that  nearly  every  principle  of 


238  THE   STRENGTH  OF   SIMPLICITY. 

William  composition  might  be  deduced  by  a  man  for 
Minto.  timseif  if  he  bore  in  mind  the  cardinal  maxim, 
that  the  purpose  of  writing  is  not  to  express 
thought  but  to  communicate  knowledge,  and 
that  that  writing  is  best  which  gets  its  mean 
ing  most  easily  and  expeditiously  into  the 
mind  of  the  reader.  It  is  the  reader's  ease 
and  convenience  that  have  to  be  considered. 
The  right  words  and  the  right  sentences 
should  be  in  their  right  places,  and  the  places 
are  right  when  what  you  want  to  be  pro 
minent  and  well  in  the  reader's  eye  is 
prominent.  Theoretically,  therefore,  though 
I  fear  I  seldom  have  realised  the  ideal  myself, 
a  writer  ought,  before  his  final  draft  at  any 
rate,  to  have  in  his  mind  clearly  what  he 
wants  to  say,  and  then  to  order  it  so  that  it 
shall  most  easily  and  clearly  find  its  way  into 
the  minds  of  his  readers. 

"  This,  of  course,  is  a  counsel  of  perfection, 
and  I  fear  I  have  not  followed  it  in  my  ramb 
ling  and  disjointed  remarks  to  yourself.  John 
Bright's  speeches  have  always  struck  me  as 
being  among  the  most  structurally  perfect 
things  in  our  language.  He  seems  always  to 
have  known  before  he  began  how  he  was 


THE   STRENGTH  OF  SIMPLICITY.  239 

to  end,  and  he  seems  to  have  also  acted  on  William 
the  principle  of  not  trying  to  pack  too  much 
matter  into  a  speech.  I  must  again  say,  how 
ever,  that  if  entertainment  is  a  writer's 
purpose,  all  the  obvious  rules  of  clear  and 
coherent  statement  seem  to  me,  although 
I  cannot  myself,  owing  to  ingrained  habit,  get 
rid  of  them,  to  be  a  mistake.  The  only 
sufficient  rule  is  to  say  what  comes  first 
into  one's  head,  and  trust  for  coherence  to  the 
suggestions  of  casual  association.  I  remember 
once  listening  to  a  very  clear,  plain,  closely- 
connected  speech,  all  bearing  on  one  head, 
simple  enough  too,  and  not  without  variety. 
When  I  came  out  I  asked  one  of  the  audience, 
a  very  intelligent  working-man,  what  he 
thought  of  it.  It  was  good,  he  said,  very 
good ;  and  then,  after  a  little  hesitation, 
added,  '  perhaps  too  good.'  How  so?  I  asked. 
He  had  some  little  difficulty  in  explaining  his 
objection,  but  it  appeared  that  one  thing  was 
too  closely  connected  with  another,  so  that 
it  was  rather  a  strain  to  follow  the  speaker. 
My  friend  quite  admitted  that  this  was  the 
proper  thing,  to  be  logical  and  coherent,  but 
said  that  he  preferred  things  thrown  in  here 


240          THE   STEENGTH   OF    SIMPLICITY. 

William    and   there,    familiar   things    that    one    could 
Minto.       cheer  at> 

"  Any  success  I  may  have  in  that  way  I 
believe  I  owe  mainly  to  my  having  been  a 
pupil  of  Professor  Bain's.  The  chapters  in  his 
'  Rhetoric,'  on  paragraph  construction,  and  on 
exposition,  seem  to  me  to  be  of  the  greatest 
use  to  anybody  who  wishes  to  compose 
clearly  for  purposes  of  conveying  information. 
I  have  also  been  an  admiring  student  of 
Matthew  Arnold  ever  since  I  heard  him 
deliver  the  first  of  his  lectures  on  '  Culture  ' 
afc  Oxford." 


A    PEOTEST   AGAINST   OBSCVE1TY. 


A    PEOTEST    AGAINST    OBSCURITY. 


is  but  a  continuation  of  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  previous  chapter,  the 
negative  side  of  which  that  was  the  positive. 
A  break  in  the  general  subject  of  clearness  may 
not  be  unacceptable  to  the  reader  ;  at  least  it 
will  give  an  opportunity  of  calling  attention  to 
a  fault  in  authorship  which  cannot  but  prove 
fatal.  We  expect  an  author  to  speak  to  us 
with  distinctness  and  precision.  If  he  is  con 
vinced  that  he  has  something  of  value  to  say, 
we  have  the  right  to  ask  that  he  shall  say  ib 
clearly  and  in  a  way  that  best  conveys  his 
meaning.  Any  obscurity,  vagueness,  or  un 
certainty  in  his  mode  of  expression  ;  any 
darkening  of  counsel  with  perplexing  utter 
ance,  at  once  forces  us  to  conclude  that  the 
author  does  not  himself  know  exactly  what  he 
thinks,  and  hence  does  not  know  just  what 
to  say.  The  moment  any  such  conclusion  is 
reached,  the  writer's  influence  over  us  has 
gone. 


244          A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUEITY. 

The  authors  most  widely  read,  and  those 
who  maintain  unchallenged  their  supremacy  in 
the  realm  of  literature,  are  those  about  whose 
thought  and  purpose  there  is  no  uncertainty. 
This  is  assuredly  one  of  the  essential  ele 
ments  of  Homer's  power  and  immortality, 
of  Michael  Cervantes',  of  Shakespeare's,  of 
Daniel  Defoe's,  of  Hawthorne's.  Because  they 
express  noble  thoughts,  and  picture  charming 
scenes,  and  relate  facts  and  experiences  with 
out  one  touch  of  vagueness,  they  never  lose 
their  fascination.  They  speak  to  us  as  we 
instinctively  feel  they  ought,  telling  us  simply, 
honestly,  straightforwardly  what  they  wish  to 
convey  to  our  minds.  Their  purpose  is  dis 
tinct  ;  therefore  their  utterances  are  so.  Clear 
thought  makes  clear  speech. 

So  of  present-day  authors.  They  are  the 
most  read  who  are  the  least  obscure.  Tenny 
son,  Kuskin,  Cardinal  Newman,  and  other  of 
our  best-known  writers,  are  living  witnesses 
of  the  fact  that  perfect  clearness  of  expression 
is  compatible  with  the  very  highest  power.  A 
style  may  be  eminently  lucid,  yet  singularly 
suggestive.  We  do  not  ask  an  author  to  over 
come  all  difficulties  of  thought  for  us.  That 


A  PEOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY.          245 

would  be  asking  him  to  become  like  a  foolishly 
indulgent  mother,  who  spoils  her  children  for 
the  sake  of  pleasing  them.  Literary  excellence 
is  tested,  not  by  leaving  a  reader  lulled  intel 
lectually  into  a  state  of  contented  repose,  but 
by  awakening  emotions  and  sentiments  not 
previously  felt.  The  effort  to  avoid  obscurity 
must  not  carry  a  writer  into  an  insipid  pro- 
faseness  of  small  talk,  such  as  that  Douglas 
Jerrold  complains  of  when  he  says  that  certain 
authors  deal  with  truth  as  though  it  were  like 
gold,  making  a  little  of  it  go  a  great  way, 
hammering  it  out  until  one  grain  covers  a 
folio.  A  writer's  every  sentence  may  ring 
with  a  great  purpose,  may  be  weighty  with  a 
solid  meaning,  may  be  trenchant,  penetrating, 
subtle,  and  yet  be  clear  as  the  sunlight. 

What  is  the  value  of  thought,  howsoever 
noble,  when  expressed  in  enigmatical  forms  ! 
In  one  of  his  splendid  stories  George  Meredith 
thus  describes  the  style  of  an  author,  whom  he 
does  not,  of  course,  name :  "  His  favourite 
author  was  one  writing  of  heroes,  in  (so  she 
esteemed  it)  a  style  resembling  either  early 
architecture  or  utter  dilapidation,  so  loose  and 
rough  it  seemed  ;  a  wind-in-the-orchard  style, 


246         A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY. 

that  tumbled  down  here  and  there  an  appre 
ciable  fruit  with  uncouth  bluster ;  sentences 
without  commencements  running  to  abrupt 
endings  and  smoke,  like  waves  against  a  sea 
wall;  learned  dictionary  words  giving  a  hand 
to  street  slang,  and  accents  falling  on  them 
haphazard,  like  slant  rays  from  driving  clouds  ; 
all  the  pages  in  a  breeze,  the  whole  book 
producing  a  kind  of  electrical  agitation  in  the 
mind  and  the  joints."  Whenever  we  meet 
with  a  mode  of  expression  at  all  akin  to  that 
so  aptly  described  by  Mr.  Meredith  we  can  do 
no  other  than  regard  it  as  disgraceful  to  the 
author  and  insulting  to  the  reader. 

The  following  contributions  will  show  how 
deeply  our  present-day  writers  feel  upon  this 
subject,  and  how  painstaking  are  their  endea 
vours  to  avoid  any  approach  to  obscurity  in 
their  own  work. 

Ltwis  LEWIS  MORRIS,  the  author  of  "  The  Epic 

1  orris.  Q£  Hades  "  and  several  volumes  of  poems 
written  with  great  power  and  marked  by  a 
singular  penetration  and  musical  quality  in 
style,  says :  "  I  am  afraid  I  have  very  little 
to  say  as  to  the  art  of  expression,  and  indeed 


A  PEOTEST  AGAINST   OBSCUBITY.         247 

I  generally  fail  to  satisfy  myself  in  prose,  and  Lewis 
often  in  verse.  I  think,  however,  that  it  is  a  •"  orru- 
good  rule  to  have  something  to  say,  not  to 
write  at  all  unless  you  have,  and  when  you  do 
write  to  use  the  fewest  possible  words  ;  then  to 
go  over  every  sentence  or  every  verse  with 
a  view  to  discover  whether  any  possibility  of 
obscurity  or  mistaken  meaning  remains,  and 
if  so,  to  alter  it  at  once  to  a  clearer  form  of 
expression.  I  have  always  tried  to  do  this, 
and  have  been  much  helped  by  my  experience 
as  a  conveyancing  counsel  of  long  practice  in 
draughting  legal  instruments.  In  a  deed  or 
will,  where  ambiguity  of  meaning  might 
involve  the  loss  of  thousands  of  pounds  to 
innocent  people,  and  where  no  assistance  is 
to  be  derived  from  punctuation,  clearness  of 
expression  is  an  absolute  necessity.  As 
regards  obscurity  in  verse,  it  is,  in  my  view, 
a  fatal  error,  and  is,  curiously  enough, 
associated  with  the  decadence  of  every  litera 
ture.  I  do  not  believe  Mr.  Browning  could 
have  written  clearly  if  he  would,  and  as  he 
is  unlikely  to  find  imitators  I  would  not 
willingly  say  a  word  against  a  .style  which  is 
weighted  with  so  much  noble  yet  difficult 
17 


248          A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUKITY. 

Lewis  thought.  Another  man  of  genius,  Mr.  George 
Morris.  Meredith,  "has  found  a  way  to  write  not 
only  obscure  verse,  but,  in  his  later  works, 
prose  so  extraordinarily  difficult  in  thought 
and  expression  that  one  may  read  page 
after  page  without  the  remotest  glimmering 
sense  of  a  possible  meaning,  which  never 
theless  doubtless  exists.  I  hope  you  will 
warn  your  readers  against  these  excesses, 
pardonable  it  may  be  to  a  certain  extent  in 
their  authors,  but  certain  to  lead  in  the  case 
of  imitators  to  absolute  failure,  and,  if  they 
should  become  general,  to  the  ultimate 
destruction  of  all  that  is  best  in  the  noblest 
literature  since  that  of  ancient  Greece." 

Charles  CHARLES  MACKAY,  a  poet  whose  songs  will 
Mackay.  ^e  remembered  with  delight,  a  ad  a  writer  of 
prose  full  of  interest  and  literary  charm, 
always  made  the  avoidance  of  obscurity  the 
sine  qua  non  of  his  work.  "  I  have  striven  in 
all  I  have  written,"  he  said,  "to  express  my 
meaning  tersely,  correctly,  and  elegantly  ;  to 
use  no  word  that  could  be  misunderstood  by 
intelligent  and  cultivated  readers  ;  to  avoid  two 
words  or  expletives  where  one  would  suffice ; 


A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY.         249 

to  be  simple  rather  than  ornate  ;  to  be  clear  Charki 
and  consistent  in  metaphor,  where  metaphor 
seemed  needful  either  to  add  force  or  dignity 
to  the  phraseology,  or  to  render  more  apparent 
the  truth  which  I  wished  to  inculcate  or  the 
falsehood  I  wished  to  confute.  I  never 
indulged  myself  in  what  is  called  '  fine 
writing/  when  simple  writing  would  answer 
the  purpose.  Perhaps  I  learned  to  form  my 
style  involuntarily,  by  reading  the  noble,  old 
English  of  the  Bible,  and  the  plain,  honest 
English  of  Bunyan's  *  Pilgrim's  Progress  '  and 
Defoe's  *  Bobinson  Crusoe/  and  to  polish 
it  by  the  more  classical  English  of  Shake 
speare's  dramas,  Pope's  poetry,  and  the  prose 
of  Addison  and  Gibbon.  I  think  also  that  I 
derived  much  benefit  from  my  early  training 
in  the  editorial  department  of  The  Morning 
Chronicle,  during  which  it  was  my  duty  to 
revise  and  abridge  the  inordinate  verbosity 
of  the  penny-a-liners,  who  were  paid  for  their 
contributions  according  to  their  length,  and 
strove  in  consequence  to  use  more  words 
than  were  necessary  to  narrate  their  facts  or 
to  explain  their  meaning." 


250          A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY. 

£.  A.  Some  one  has  said  that  simplicity,  natural- 

breeman.    negg  an(j   jlonesty  are  the  lasting  tests  of  art. 

Judged  by  this    canon   Professor  Freeman's 
work  is   a  work   of  art.     In   historical   com 
position  he  wields  the  pen  of  a  master.     His 
writing  is   always  strong,   clear,  and  marked 
by  a   delightful    sincerity   and    candour.       It 
may   be    earnestly  commended  to   all  lovers 
of  manly,   straightforward  English.      I  have 
the     privilege    of    quoting    some    paragraphs 
from   a  long  letter.     "  I  have   always  held," 
says    EDWARD    A.    FREEMAN,     "  that    there 
are  two  main  objects  in  writing,  separate  in 
idea,   but  which    really  come    nearly  to   the 
same  thing :    to   say  what   you  have   to   say 
in  the   clearest  words,   and  to   keep   up   the 
purity  of  your  native  tongue.     I   always  find 
when  I  have  to  revise  anything  written  some 
time  back  that  I  can  get  rid  of  an  outlandish 
word   or  two,    and   I   do   it.     In   quite   early 
writings   of  mine  I   daresay   you   would  find 
phrases  that  I  should  now  eschew  altogether, 
and  cry  out  against  in  anybody  else  ;  the  thing 
takes  a  good  deal  of  pains.     The  principle  is 
to  say  what  you  mean   and  mean  what  you 
say.     To  that  end  use  straightforward  English 


A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY.          251 

words,  about  the  meaning  of  which  neither  E.  A. 
yourself  nor  your  readers  can  have  any  doubt.  Freeman* 
The  '  grand  style,'  the  *  brilliant  style/  the 
*  high  polite  style,'  with  its  words  which  do 
not  at  once  convey  their  own  meaning  to 
everybody,  is  the  refuge  of  those  who  either 
have  no  very  clear  idea  of  their  own  mean 
ing,  or  else  have  their  reasons  for  not  wish 
ing  their  meaning  to  be  clear  to  others. 
Much  political  talk  on  all  sides  of  all  ques 
tions  comes  under  this  last  head.  I  have 
always  tried,  in  political  writing  as  well  as 
any  other,  so  to  write  that,  whether  people 
like  what  I  think  or  not,  they  shall,  at  least, 
know  what  I  do  think. 

"  I  am  charged  with  being  '  diffuse.'  That 
is  because  I  have  written  the  story  of  the 
Norman  Conquest  really  in  full.  I  am  told 
that  I  am  *  allusive/  because  in  my  published 
Oxford  lectures,  addressed  to  people  who  are 
supposed  to  know  something,  I  give  them  the 
pleasure — to  me  it  is  a  very  refined  pleasure — 
of  being  reminded  of  this  and  that.  I  am 
told  I  should  'explain/  'add  notes/  &c. 
Yes,  in  their  places  !  I  can  write  milk  for 
babes,  too,  when  it  is  necessary.  The  people 


252          A  PEOTEST  AGAINST   OBSCURITY. 

E.  A.        who  talk  in  this  way  had  better  stick  to  the 

Freeman.   <  primer   of  European    History,'  it   may  just 

suit  their  understanding.     I  have  also  written 

the  '  Short  History  of  the  Norman  Conquest/ 

for  those  who  may  weary  of  the  long  one. 

"  I  have  learned  more  in  the  matter  of 
style  from  Lord  Macaulay  than  from  any 
other  writer,  living  or  dead.  I  have  not 
imitated  him,  but  I  have  learned  from  him. 
Nobody  ever  had  to  read  a  sentence  of  his 
twice  over  to  know  what  he  meant ;  that,  I 
guess,  is  the  reason  why  every  conceited 
young  babbler  thinks  it  fine  to  have  a  fling 
at  him.  I  learned  from  him  to  make  a  sen 
tence  of  reasonable  length,  and  not  to  go 
rambling  up  and  down  through  a  wilderness 
of  relatives.  I  learned  never  to  be  afraid  of 
using  the  same  word  over  and  over  again ; 
not  to  cumber  myself  with  pronouns  and 
circumlocution,  but  to  say  what  I  meant  in 
good  English,  with  no  scrap  of  other  tongues, 
no  cant  phrases  of  the  day,  no  joke  thrust 
into  every  line,  whether  there  is  place 
for  a  joke  or  not.  Tell  your  young  men  if 
they  want  real,  model  English,  yet  without 
archaism  or  affectation,  they  will  find  ifc  in 


A  PEOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY.          253 

Macaulay,  prose  and  verse.     Perhaps  you  will  E.  A. 
remember  a  very   fine    passage— it   must   be  -Freeman. 
in    the    second     volume — which    ends,    '  the 
Queen  was  with   child.'     Contrast  that  with 

some  namby-pamby,  dainty  rubbish  of , 

about  '  Queen  Mary  being  enceinte.9  The  one 
now  seemingly  left  who  can  write  English 
is  Goldwin  Smith  ;  and  the  people  who  make 
all  their  silly  lists  of  '  hundred  books '  and 
what  not,  never  put  him  in.  *  Spin  your  yarn 
in  plain  English,'  is  what  Chucks  says  in  *  Peter 
Simple ' — perhaps  some  of  the  new-school 
writers  may  say  something  different :  that's 
the  root  of  the  matter.  One  word  more. 
Some  people  seem  to  think  that  foreign  words, 
Latin,  or  otherwise,  scraps  of  foreign  tongues 
and  the  like,  are  signs  of  learning.  Tell  your 
young  men  it  is  just  the  other  way.  He  who 
is  really  master  of  foreign  tongues  will  no 
more  corrupt  his  English  with  scraps  of  Greek, 
Latin,  French,  or  any  other  tongue,  than  he 
will  corrupt  his  Greek,  Latin,  or  French  with 
scraps  of  English.  If  a  man  drags  in  a  Latin 
phrase — I  say,  drags  in,  for  an  apposite  quota 
tion  from  any  tongue  is  always  possible — I  set 
it  down,  that  that  is  all  the  Latin  he  has." 


254         A  PBOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUKITT. 

Karl  KARL    BLIND,   the    Anglo-German    author, 

n  '  says  :  "  There  is  to  my  knowledge  no  royal 
road  to  the  art  of  composition.  Every  one 
must  strike  out  a  path  for  himself  if  he  would 
acquire  a  forcible  and  interesting  style.  The 
style,  it  has  been  well  said,  with  a  degree  of 
truth,  is  the  writer's  own  individuality — '  Le 
style  c'est  Vhomme.'  To  cultivate  clearness  of 
thought  and  to  develop  strength  of  character 
will  certainly  be  the  first  steps  towards  an 
impressive  and  attractive  mode  of  utterance. 
There  have  been  deep  thinkers,  no  doubt,  and 
men  of  marked  individuality  who  have  painfully 
struggled  with  the  written  or  spoken  word ; 
but  that  is  no  reason  why  persons  of  far 
lesser  capacity  should  inflict  upon  their  readers 
or  hearers  the  martyrdom  produced  by  a  dark, 
a  feeble,  and  a  tedious  expression.  '  All  kinds 
of  writing,'  a  master  of  style  has  said,  *  are 
permissible,  except  the  tiresome.'  " 

SirJ.F.       gjr  jt  FITZJAMES  STEPHEN  writes:  "The 
Stephen.  ~    ,          ., 

commonest  source  of  obscurity  is  the  misuse 

of  the  pronouns.  A  translation  of  Hegel  con 
tains  this  sentence  :  '  The  notion  is  that  in  the 
others  that  is  equal  to  itself.9  Four  pronouns 


A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY.          255 

expressed,  and  a  fifth  (the  one  to  answer  Sir  J.  Ft 
to  the  others)  implied  in  the  definition  of  one  SteP'lcn- 
substantive,  and  no  noun  for  any  of  the  four. 
A  second  source  of  obscurity  is  ambiguous 
arrangement — '  They  rushed  out  like  a  swarm 
of  bees  with  axes  in  their  hands,'  for  '  With 
axes  in  their  hands  they  rushed  forth  like  a 
swarm  of  bees.'  I  will  add  one  other  little 
remark  —  see  you  get  your  onlys  right. 
'  Howe'er  it  be,  it  seems  to  me  'tis  only  noble 
to  be  good.'  Lord  Tennyson,  no  doubt,  meant 
goodness  is  the  only  true  nobility.  What  he 
says  is,  It  is  only  noble  to  be  good,  i.e.,  It 
is  not  a  duty,  but  only  matter  of  noble 
ness  to  be  good,  which  he  certainly  did  nofc 
mean." 

As  pointed  out  by  Justice  Stephen,  am 
biguous  arrangement  is  a  frequent  source  of 
obscurity  in  common  speech.  We  sometimes 
read  of  "  terra  cotta  ladies'  gloves,"  of  "  woollen 
children's  mits,"  of  the  "  snake  that  was  killed 
by  a  boy  twelve  feet  long."  A  member  of  the 
Savage  Club,  so  runs  the  story,  was  one  day 
standing  on  the  steps  of  the  club-house.  A 
messenger  stopped  and  inquired  :  "  Does  a  gen 
tleman  belong  to  your  club  with  one  eye  named 


256         A  PEOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUEITY. 

SirJ.  F.  Walker?  "     "  I  don't  know,"  was  the  answer  ; 
Stephen.     «  what   wag  the  name  of  hig  ofcher  eye  ?  „     A 

considerable  difference  in  the  sense  of  a 
sentence  may  result  from  misplacing  a  single 
word. 

Sir  JR.  The  names  of  SIB  RICHARD  and  LADY 
andLady  BURTON  are  here  united  because  the 
following  contribution  is  their  joint  work. 
Another  reason  for  coupling  them  may  be 
found  in  the  fact  of  their  loving  comrade 
ship  in  the  literary  calling.  "  We  divide 
the  work,"  says  Captain  Burton.  "  I  take 
all  .the  hard  and  scientific  part  and  make 
her  do  all  the  rest."  Lady  Burton  has  won 
for  herself  an  enviable  place  in  the  world  of 
letters,  while  the  number,  the  variety,  and 
the  quality  of  the  Captain's  works  are  truly 
remarkable.  Readers  of  the  interesting  letter 
here  given  will  learn  what  it  has  cost  the 
intrepid  traveller,  who  made  the  memorable 
pilgrimage  to  Meccah  and  Medinah,  to  raise 
himself  to  a  level  with  literary  men  of  the 
foremost  rank.  Lady  Burton  writes  to  regret 
that  so  little  can  be  said  upon  the  subject. 
"  My  husband  dictates  as  follows  :  '  His  early 


A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY.          257 

youth  was  passed  on  the  Continent,  where,  in  Sir  R. 

addition  to  the   usual  studies  of  Latin    and  a£dLa 

Burton. 
Greek,  he   learnt,    instinctively     as    it   were, 

French  and  Italian,  with  their  several  dialects, 
as  thoroughly  as  he  did  English.  In  his 
native  tongue  he  was  ever  fond  of  the  older 
writers,  and  gave  himself  with  great  ardour  to 
the  systematic  study  of  Addison.  He  knew 
Shakespeare  almost  by  heart,  and  learnt  to 
admire  the  thorough  propriety  of  words  which 
distinguished  him.  He  worked  hard  at  the 
perfect  prose  of  the  English  translation  of  the 
Bible,  and  to  this  he  added  Euclid  by  way  of 
shortening  his  style  and  attaining  clearness 
of  thought.  When  travelling  in  Central  Africa 
he  always  carried  with  him  the  three  bound 
up  together  in  a  single  volume,  with  three 
clasps  like  a  breviary,  and  used  it  to  cheer 
his  many  dull  and  disagreeable  hours,  not 
spent  in  actual  exploration.  When  picturing 
scenery  it  was  his  habit  to  draw  from  nature, 
as  if  painting  a  landscape.  When  describing 
character,  he  studied  the  man  as  completely 
as  he  could,  and  meditated  carefully  over  his 
mental  picture  before  he  ventured  to  put  it 
upon  paper.  He  is  thoroughly  convinced  that 


258          A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY. 

Sir  £.  to  express  clearly,  a  man  must  think  clearly, 
Burton?  an^  mus*  thoroughly  understand  what  he 
means  to  express ;  and  he  would  often  pass  the 
earlier  hours  of  the  night  in  reflecting  upon 
the  task  of  the  coming  morning.  He  felt  that 
what  is  called  unconscious  cerebration  was  a 
great  aid  to  his  work.  Having  fixed  in  his 
mind  exactly  what  he  intended  to  say,  he 
preserved  himself  from  incoherent  and  uncon 
nected  writing.  In  India  he  passed  stiff 
examinations  in  six  languages,  not  to  speak 
of  Arabic  and  Pushtoo,  the  language  of  the 
Afghans.  These  studies  again  benefited  his 
English  style.  Being  forced  to  think  of  the 
foreign  sentences  before  they  were  spoken,  he 
applied  the  same  process  to  English,  and  in 
that  way  gained  no  little  clearness  and  point. 
In  his  many  versions  of  Eastern  authors,  for 
instance,  "  The  Thousand  Nights  and  a  Night," 
in  sixteen  volumes,  he  attempted  to  carry  out 
his  ideal  estimate  of  a  translator.  According 
to  him,  the  grand  translator,  Chaucer,  was 
so-called  by  his  contemporaries  because  he 
cast  in  thorough  English  mould  the  thoughts 
and  language  of  Petrarch  and  of  Boccaccio. 
Moreover,  as  no  language  is  complete,  and  each 


A  PEOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY.          259 

has  some  points  in  which  it  can  be  improved,  Sir  J?. 


he  was  ambitious  of  transferring  from  foreign 

.  .  ,     Burton. 
tongues  the  idioms  and  turns  of  phrase  which 

he  thought  might  be  naturalised  and  treated  as 
welcome  guests  in  English.  Of  course  the 
process  was  viewed  with  different  eyes  by 
different  people,  some  with  friendly  regard, 
whilst  others  characterised  such  efforts  as  "  di 
verting  lunacies  of  style."  Here  my  husband 
ceases  to  dictate,  and  I  think  I  have  given  you 
as  long  an  answer  as  you  require.  There  is 
no  doubt  he  is  a  master  of  English,  and 
handles  and  plays  with  it  skilfully  ;  but  to 
carry  out  his  programme  one  must  begin  from 
childhood,  and  I  doubt  if  it  will  serve  what 
you  want,  whereas  I  think  three  very  simple 
rules  of  my  own  might.  One  is,  never  to  be 
ashamed  to  ask  the  meaning  of  anything, 
be  it  ever  so  simple,  if  one  ought  to  know 
it.  The  second  is,  to  read  slowly,  considering 
the  words,  arid  looking  for  the  meaning  of 
each  different  word  in  all  its  bearings.  The 
third  is,  whether  in  speaking  or  in  writing, 
to  imagine  you  are  relating  a  story  to  your 
friend  by  your  own  fireside,  which  gives  a 
great  charm  to  style,  provided  you  avoid  the 


260         A  PEOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY. 

Sir  R.  jerky,  or  flippant,  or  question  and  answer 
st^e»  a<lhermg  to  flowing,  earnest,  natural, 
easy  narrative,  as  you  would  in  such  case,  quite 
devoid  of  shyness  and  restlessness." 

I  have  inserted  the  above  remarkable  record 
here  in  order  to  illustrate  the  fact  that 
obscurity  is  avoided  and  clearness  gained 
only  as  a  result  of  the  most  patient  toil  and 
constant  care. 

Emile  de  EMILE  DE  LAVELEYE,  the  eminent  Belgian 
Laveleye.  economist  and  author,  says  :  "  The  first 
quality  of  style  is,  according  to  my  opinion, 
that  of  saying  clearly  what  one  wishes  to  con 
vince  one's  readers  of;  for  language  serves 
mainly  to  express  one's  thought.  The  second 
quality  consists  in  the  employment  of  ener 
getic  and  highly-coloured  word-pictures,  which 
strike  the  imagination,  awake  the  attention, 
and  stamp  the  thought  on  the  memory.  In 
my  opinion  the  most  perfect  example  of  the 
union  of  these  two  qualities,  in  French,  is  seen 
in  the  thoughts  of  Pascal.  How  shall  a  young 
man  succeed  in  the  formation  of  style  ?  By 
reading  good  authors ;  above  all,  by  reading 
them  pen  in  hand,  so  as  to  take  account  of 


A  PKOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY.          2G1 

their  processes.     A  good  professor  can,  in  this  Emik  de 
direction,   render  great   service   to   his  pupil.  &****&** 
No  literature  is  richer  in  good  models   than 
your  own.     The  Germans  lack  clearness  and 
action.     The  Italians  are  diffuse.     France  has 
admirable  writers,   particularly   those  of   the 
seventeenth  century." 

ALFRED  EDERSIIEIM,  late  Professor  at  A  Eders+ 
Oxford,  an  eminent  Hebrew  scholar,  wrote,  Jmm' 
just  previous  to  his  death  :  "  I  should  say  the 
first  thing  to  be  sought  for  is,  that  a  writer 
shall  have  a  clear  and  accurate  conception  of 
what  he  is  about  to  communicate.  Want  of 
clearness  in  expression  is  mostly  due  to  want 
of  accuracy  and  a  knowledge  of  details.  You 
have  a  general  knowledge,  and  can  communi 
cate  it  confusedly,  because  from  your  ignorance 
of  details  you  dare  not  venture  to  use  precise 
language.  For  myself  I  always  try  mentally 
to  see  the  thing  or  the  place  which  I  intend  to 
describe.  Another  mistake  is,  that  writers  and 
speakers  take  too  much  for  granted  on  the 
part  of  those  whom  they  are  addressing.  Do 
not  take  anything  for  granted,  but  write  or 
peak  as  if  you  had  to  communicate  the  most 


262         A   PROTEST   AGAINST   OBSCURITY. 

A  Eders-  elementary  details.  It  is  an  old  adage  that  you 
eim'  should  '  avoid  fine  writing/  Fine  writing  is 
artificial,  unreal,  got-up  sentiment  or  figure. 
Be  natural,  truthful,  and  if  such  figures 
suggest  themselves  alter  them,  though  with 
due  self- restraint.  Spare  no  trouble.  What  is 
worth  doing  is  worth  doing  at  your  best.  A 
single  fact  will  reward  a  week's  work.  I  never 
hesitate  tearing  up  three  or  four  attempts  at 
the  beginning  of  a  MS.  My  last  rule  is, 
perseverance.  I  believe  that  determination 
and  quiet  persistence  of  work  will  ultimately 
succeed;  that  is,  of  course,  when  conjoined 
with  proper  application  and  sufficient  know 
ledge/' 

Duke  of  The  DUKE  OF  ARGYLL  does  not  believe  in 
any  rules  or  directions  doing  much  in  forming 
a  man's  style.  "  I  have  always  held,"  he  says, 
"  that  clear  thinking  will  find  its  own  expression 
in  clear  writing.  As  to  mere  technical  rules, 
there  are  very  few  that  occur  to  me,  except 
such  as  these — 1st,  to  aim  at  short  sentences, 
without  involution  or  parenthetical  matter. 
2nd,  to  follow  a  logical  order  in  the  construc 
tion  of  sentences,  and  in  the  sequence  of  them. 


A    PROTEST   AGAINST   OBSCURITY.         203 

3rd,  to  avoid  absolutely  such  phrases  as  'the  Duke  of 
former '  and  '  the  latter/  always  preferring  Arsyli- 
repetition  to  the  use  of  such  tiresome  refer 
ences.  The  last  rule,  and  in  some  measure 
the  others,  I  learnt  from  Macaulay,  and  have 
found  it  of  immense  use.  There  is  some 
mannerism  in  his  style,  but  it  is  always  clear 
as  crystal,  and  his  rule  of  repetition  contributed 
much  to  this.  I  began  to  write  as  quite  a  boy, 
but  I  did  not  do  so  with  any  conscious  desire 
to  form  a  style.  I  wrote  because  I  thought, 
and  thought  keenly,  on  subjects  of  large 
interest ;  and  also,  perhaps,  because  I  am 
naturally  both  reflective  and  argumentative." 

AMELIA  B.  EDWARDS  is  an  author  who  has  Miss 
many    claims    upon    our    regard.       She    has  "imeJ,1? 
achieved  a  notable  reputation  as  Egyptologist      ' 
and  antiquarian ;  she  has  written  some  of  our 
most  readable  books  of  modern  travel ;  she  is 
also   a  clever   novelist,  the   writer  of  several 
romances  of  a  high  order  of  merit.     "  For  my 
own  part,"  she  says,  "  I  began  authorship  be 
fore  I  could  write,  and  my  first  published  pro 
duction  was  a  little  poem  at  the  age  of  seven ! 
I  have  certainly  always  tried  to  be  clear,  and 

18 


2G4         A  PROTEST   AGAINST   OBSCURITY. 


Miss 

Amelia 
B.  Ed 
wards. 


Mtss 

Sarah 

Tytler. 


to  avoid  circumlocution.  In  the  formation 
of  my  style,  such  as  it  is,  I  have  aimed  chiefly 
at  these  two  ends,  and  it  has  always  been  my 
practice  to  read  and  re-read  my  MSS.  with  a 
view  to  striking  out  every  unnecessary  word 
till  I  could  no  longer  find  anything  to  prune. 
Of  course  I  do  not  mean  words  unnecessary 
only  to  the  sense.  Words  unnecessary  to  the 
mere  sense  are  often  necessary  to  the  grace 
or  music  of  a  sentence,  and  are  therefore 
necessary  in  another  way.  Looking  back  to 
the  time  when  I  first  took  up  literature  seriously 
— say,  from  1850  to  1855 — I  think  I  was  most 
influenced  by  the  style  of  Macaulay,  Hazlitt, 
Lamb,  Shelley,  in  his  prose  writings,  and  De 
Quincey.  But  I  do  not  know  that  these 
permanently  affected  my  own  method.  .  .  . 
I  have  not  much  faith  in  '  gifts/  but  I  believe 
in  a  fine  sense  of  music  and  a  good  ear.  I 
happened  to  have  a  thorough  musical  educa 
tion,  and  I  believe  I  have  a  good  ear :  and  to 
me  it  seems  that  my  literary  work  owes  a 
great  deal,  as  regards  form,  to  counterpoint 
and  phrasing." 

SARAH    TYTLER  is  the  nom  de   guerre  of 


A  PROTEST  AGAINST   OBSCURITY.         265 

Henrietta  Kidder.  This  author's  stories  are  Miss 
written  in  a  quaint  style,  subdued  and  not  Sarah 
unpleasing  ;  and  her  characters  are  always 
truthfully  and  philosophically  developed.  "  I 
am  afraid,"  she  says,  "  my  own  style  of 
writing  is  not  good.  I  am  aware  that  it  is 
involved,  though  I  have  tried  hard  to  cor 
rect  the  fault ;  and  I  have  been  told  of  other 
defects.  Any  success  I  have  had  as  an  author 
has  been,  I  suspect,  in  spite  of  my  style.  I 
have  generally  had,  or  thought  I  had,  a  story  to 
tell,  and  I  have  been  in  earnest  in  telling  it. 
I  was  brought  up  in  the  country,  and  educated 
at  home,  with  considerable,  though  by  no 
means  unlimited,  access  to  books.  I  was 
very  fond  of  reading,  and  read  the  Waverley 
Novels  over  and  over  again ;  and  though  these 
did  not  do  what  they  might  have  done  for  my 
style,  I  have  no  doubt  they  enlarged  my  mind. 
At  a  later  date  my  time  was  so  much  occupied 
that  though  reading  and  a  certain  amount  of 
study  came  into  the  occupation,  as  it  were, 
I  had  not  the  leisure  to  do  much  to  form  or 
improve  my  style.  My  own  opinion  is  that 
the  great  means  to  promote  style  is  to  read 
good  standard  books,  avoiding  those  which 


266          A  TEOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUKITT. 

Miss  are  low-toned,  or,  what  is  perhaps  worse, 
flashy.  I  believe  that  style  is  in  a  manner 
infectious,  and  that  by  habitually  keeping  good 
company  in  books  we  are  as  sure  to  catch  the 
tone  of  their  authors  as  we  catch  the  tone 
of  the  best — that  is,  the  most  spiritually  noble, 
agreeable,  and  intelligent — society." 

Mrs.  L.  T.  MEADB   is   the  editor   of   Atalanta, 

L-  T-  and  the  author  of  a  number  of  sensible  and 
useful  stories,  mostly  suitable  for  young 
people.  "  In  my  own  case,"  writes  Mrs. 
Meade,  "  I  have  not  followed  the  approved 
methods,  but  always  allow  my  stories  to  grow 
under  my  hands,  and  my  principal  characters 
to  guide  me  rather  than  I  them.  I  have  often 
been  asked  by  publishers  to  make  a  plot  for 
a  story,  but  I  find  this  plan  of  writing 
almost  impossible.  If  I  may  venture  to  give 
a  hint  to  young  writers,  it  would  be  to  beg 
of  them  in  writing  fiction  to  remove  every 
character  from  their  pages  which  does  not 
appear  to  them  to  live.  There  comes  a 
moment,  at  least  I  find  it  so,  in  the  writing 
of  stories,  when  all  the  characters  worth  any 
thing  become  as  real  and  alive  to  the  author 


A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY.          267 

as  if  they  were  human  beings.    The  characters  Mrs. 

Meade. 


T 

that  do  not  so  live  are  only  puppets,  and  will 


never  awaken  interest  in  the  reader.  I  have 
written  now  steadily  for  twelve  years.  At 
first  I  made  frequent  copies  of  my  MSS.,  but 
now  never  do  so.  I  dictate  all  my  stories,  and 
can  say  with  truth  that  I  have  very  little 
idea  beforehand  of  what  I  am  going  to  say.  I 
have  not  consciously  followed  any  style ;  but  I 
have  always  loved  stories,  and  could  make  them 
up  as  far  back  as  I  can  remember.  Let  me 
recommend  an  article  by  Walter  Besant,  '  On 
the  Writing  of  Novels/  in  the  December 
(1887)  number  of  Atalanta.  Two  more 
articles  by  him  on  the  same  subject  appear 
in  the  April  and  May  (1888)  numbers  of 
the  magazine.  Perhaps  I  may  add  from  my 
self,  that  I  love  writing  about  children  best, 
and  have  always  studied  them  from  the 
life."  Mrs.  Meade's  stories  are  very  clearly 
composed,  without  a  touch  of  ambiguity.  Her 
characters  are  genuine  flesh  and  blood. 

FRANCES    CASHEL    HOEY,    a    novelist    of  Mrs.  F. 
considerable    power,  writes  to  say  :   "I  have 
always  had   a  taste  for    studies    with    direct 


268         A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY. 

Mrs.  F.     and  indirect  bearing  upon   language,  and   I 
ofy*   think,   although  I  never  received  any  formal 
instruction,  I  hit  upon  a  good  method  of  self- 
teaching  when  I  was  a  very  young  woman — 
I  married  at  sixteen — living  in  a  remote  place, 
having  access   to  but  few  books    and  not  to 
any  kind  of  assistance  in  learning.    I  perceived 
at   a  very    early   stage    of   my   studies    that 
grammar  is  a    common-sense  system,    appli 
cable    to    spoken  and  written  tongues,     with 
immutable  first  principles  and  various  methods 
of  adaptation.     The  significance  and  place  of 
the   so-called   parts   of   speech    do    not   vary, 
nor    does     their     relation     to     each     other. 
Then  I  studied  from   that  point  of  view  the 
Analyse  Logique  and  Analyse   Grammaticale 
of  Noel  et  Chapsal,  and  found  it  an  excellent 
help  to  use  the  ideas  and  methods  contained 
in  those  works.     I  found  they  were  as  valuable 
for    English   as    for   French   composition.    I 
read    in    English     such   works    of  the    best 
authors  as  I  could  procure,  and    I   carefully 
analysed,  so  to  speak  dissected,  their  language, 
studying  the  relation  and  proportion  of  words, 
and  making  a  very  careful  study  of  synonyms, 
with    due   observation   of   the   more   or   less 


A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUEITY.         269 

accurate  representation  of  each  by  the  others.  Mrs.  F. 
Then,  by  the  aid  of  a  Latin  grammar  and 
dictionary,  I  formed  for  myself  a  sort  of  table 
of  derivations,  and  got  a  general  idea  in  using 
words  of  harmonising  them ;  for  instance, 
in  the  employment  of  adjectives,  to  use 
adjectives  of  Latin  derivation  to  qualify  nouns 
of  like  origin.  I  have  -been  able  to  acquire, 
without  ever  receiving  the  smallest  help,  a 
fair  knowledge  of  the  Italian  and  Spanish 
languages,  and  have  made  several  translations 
from  the  former,  both  of  prose  and  poetical 
works.  I  have  always  found  the  study  of 
derivations  and  the  habit  of  analysis  of  the 
greatest  use  to  me,  as  enabling  me  to  follow 
the  reasonable  course  of  construction,  and  to 
discern  with  comparative  ease  the  similarities 
and  the  differences  between  languages.  The 
only  English  grammar  I  ever  used  was 
Lindley  Murray's,  and  that  I  discarded  when 
I  had  mastered  the  formulae,  but  I  was  in 
debted  to  the  venerable  old  master  for  a  keen 
perception  of  the  niceties  of  tense  and  the 
importance  of  correct  employment  of  preposi 
tions  ;  also  for  a  tolerably  accurate  use  of  the 
various  adverbs  of  time,  place,  &c." 


270          A  PROTEST   AGAINST   OBSCUKITY. 

IV.  C  W.  CLARK  KUSSELL,  the  author  of  a  mim- 
Russell.  ber  of  enthralling  stories  of  life  and  adventure 
on  the  ocean,  writes  with  a  studious  accuracy, 
a  graceful  and  striking  individuality,  most 
pleasing  to  the  reader.  His  books  are  not 
only  correct  in  presentation,  but  thoroughly 
sound  in  sentiment,  instructive,  entertaining, 
and  in  every  way  wholesome.  "  Although  I 
was  at  Winchester,"  says  Mr.  Kussell,  "  and 
at  two  or  three  schools  in  France — one  of 
them  a  famous  seminary,  where,  amongst  my 
companions  were  three  sons  of  the  late 
Charles  Dickens — I  went  to  sea  so  young, 
at  the  age  of  thirteen  and  a-half,  that  I 
believe  before  I  had  been  six  months  on  the 
ocean  all  the  knowledge  I  had  acquired  under 
the  shadow  of  the  birch  was  washed  out  of  me. 
When  I  quitted  the  sea  I  read  much,  and  in 
many  directions,  but  chiefly  old  authors,  I 
was  and  still  am  a  great  lover  of  florid  lite 
rature.  Jeremy  Taylor,  Sir  Thomas  Browne, 
the  Nonconformist  Howre,  old  Anatomy  Bur 
ton,  the  dramatists,  particularly  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher,  Marlowe,  Chapman,  were  my 
passion,  as  they  still  are  my  delight.  My 
taste  for  poetry  led  me  to  range  through  the 


A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUEITY.          271 

dull  periods  even  of  Johnson's  bards ;  but  of  W.  C. 
all  poets  I  think  I  owe  most  to  Wordsworth.  Russel1* 
In  truth,  I  have  read  a  very  great  deal,  but 
it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  determine 
the  extent  of  my  obligation  to  any  particular 
author.  My  experience  is  that  I  can  best  ex 
press  what  I  see  most  clearly,  hence,  as  my 
acquaintance  with  the  sea-life  is  considerable, 
few  illustrations  of  it  can  occur  but  that  I  can 
grasp  them  in  their  entirety ;  and  I  find  that 
words  seldom  fail  me  when  the  image  pre 
sent  to  my  imagination  is  charged  with  living 
colour  and  defined  in  its  true  proportions. 
Style,  in  my  humble  judgment,  is  largely 
dependent  upon  observation.  A  ploughman 
would  tell  you  what  he  knows  more  graphi 
cally  than  one  ignorant  of  the  subject,  yet 
a  master  of  English,  would  be  able  to  express 
it.  The  deficiencies  are  a  mere  question  of 
grammar,  which  any  usher  without  a  par 
ticle  of  imagination  would  be  able  to  rectify. 
My  advice  to  a  young  beginner  would  be  first 
take  the  trouble  to  thoroughly  understand 
what  you  propose  to  convey  and  the  words 
will  follow.  I  sometimes  wish,  indeed,  that 
there  was  less  style  and  more  understanding, 


272         A  PEOTEST  AGAINST   OBSCURITY. 

W.  C.       Dr.  Johnson's  fine  criticism  of  Dr.  Robertson's 
Russell.     styl(3)  <  that   be  rollg  up  every  ]ittle  piece  of 

gold  in  a  great  quantity  of  wool/  is  much  too 
applicable  to  this  age  to  be  relishable.  A  good 
style,  in  my  opinion,  follows  good  sense.  To 
be  intelligible  is  the  first  consideration,  and 
that  can  only  attend  the  language  of  a  man 
who  knows  what  he  is  about." 

Edmund  EDMUND  YATES,  journalist  and  novelist,  who 
writes  with  a  straightforward  and  generous- 
hearted  style,  simple  and  unadorned,  says : 
"  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea  how  I  acquired 
such  style  in  writing  as  I  may  possess.  I 
always  aimed  at  simplicity,  and  endeavoured 
to  make  myself  'understood  of  the  people,' 
and  I  have  always  resolutely  restricted  myself 
from  writing  *  with  a  purpose,'  or  endeavour 
ing  to  convey  the  powder  of  instruction  in 
the  jam  of  amusement.  I  may  congratulate 
myself,  too,  on  having  a  very  keen  ear  for 
dissonance ;  and  this  has  been  of  the  more 
service  to  me,  as  I  honestly  confess  to  recol 
lecting  very  few  rules  of  grammar." 

O.  Craw-      OSWALD  CRAWFURD,  a  novelist  who  always 
furd. 


A  PROTEST  AGAINST   OBSCUEITY.          273 

writes  with  force  and  correctness  of  style,  says  :  o. 
"  Of  all  the  arts  none  seems  to  rne  greater,  fu 
and  even  to  state  the  thing  at  its  lowest,  more 
useful,  than  the  art  of  clothing  thought  in 
appropriate  words.  The  art  of  course  includes 
more  and  higher  work  than  that,  for  it  in 
cludes,  too,  that  of  so  shaping  and  co-ordinating 
ideas  as  that  when  they  obtain  expression  they 
shall  be  to  the  utmost  prevalent  with  reader 
or  listener.  Perhaps  you  will  say  this  is  more 
than  style  ;  it  is  eloquence.  I  think  it  is  ;  but 
I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  if  you  restrain 
style  to  its  commoner  definition,  and  study  to 
form  a  good  one,  you  run  a  risk  of  acquiring 
an  artificial  and  mannered  style.  It  is  so  with 
every  other  art,  with  painting  for  instance. 
Sometimes  when  I  hear  a  critic  saying  before 
a  picture  :  '  How  exquisitely  that  grass  is  ren 
dered  ! '  or,  '  What  wonderful  flesh  tones  ! '  I 
am  tempted  to  say  •  '  Yes,  but  has  the  painter 
succeeded  in  expressing  his  idea?  Could  he 
have  expressed  the  emotion  of  his  soul  more 
feelingly  or  better?  '  So  with  a  poem,  a  novel, 
the  question  should  be,  '  Has  the  poet  or 
author  so  co-ordinated  his  thought,  his  idea, 
or  his  suggestions,  and  so  presented  them,  as 


274          A  PEOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUEITY. 

•O.  Craw-  to  produce  their  utmost  effect  ? '  If  so,  his 
furd.  style  is  perfect ;  but  if,  at  first  reading,  I  am 
taken  up  with  admiring  his  phrases,  I  "begin 
to  think  that  he  has  failed  in  the  highest  art 
of  all.  Art  is  at  its  best  when  the  writer  can 
make  us  forget  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
style  at  all,  so  greatly  does  he  move  us.  Take 
Shakespeare  for  instance.  When  one  first 
reads  such  a  passage  as 

What  may  this  mean, 

That  them,  dead  corse,  again  in  complete  steel 
Revisit'st  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon, 
Making  night  hideous  ? 

and  the  whole  speech,  one  is  stirred  with  a 
passion  of  awe  in  sympathy,  such  as  Hamlet 
himself  must  have  felt.  It  is  only  when  one 
begins  calmly  to  dissect  the  words,  the  ideas, 
the  music  of  each  exquisite  phrase  that  one 
suddenly  confesses  how  great  a  mastery  of 
style  is  here. 

"  But  one  must  begin  at  the  bottom  of  the 
ladder.  Now  I  am  pretty  well  assured  that 
the  first  step  on  this  same  ladder  of  style  is,  if 
one  may  so  call  it,  the  rung  of  lucidity.  The 
French  have  a  proverb,  '  What  is  obscure  is 
bad  French/  I  wish  we  had  a  corresponding 


A  PEOTEST   AGAINST   OBSCUKITT.         275 

one.     But  whether  we  possess  the  maxim  or  O.  Craw- 

not,  no   good  English  writer,   from  Swift  to  furd- 

De  Quincey,  has  written  English  hard  to  be 

understood.     Then,  still  mounting  the  ladder, 

one   might,  to  parody  Mr.  Euskin,  place  the 

rung  of  brevity  next,  and  after  that  the  rung  of 

rhythm,  and  the  rungs  of  beauty,  of  force,  of 

grace,  and  of  wit,  till  presently    we    should 

reach  a  height  on  the  ladder  where  only  geniua 

can  tread,  and  where  humbler  folk  would  do 

wisely  not  to  climb.     If  I  had  to  live  my  life — 

the  apprentice  stage  of  my  literary  life — over 

again,  I  should  do  a  great  many  more  things 

to  form  my  style,  and  especially  to  avoid  bad 

literary  habits,  than  I  did.     The  first  thing,  of 

course,  is  to  set  a  right  model  before  oneself. 

That  is,  it  seems  to  me,  a  very  great  difficulty. 

How  is  an  unformed   taste  to  recognise   the 

good  from  the  vicious  in  style?     Eor  a  long 

time  Addison  was  the  recognised  model.     We 

don't  think  so  now.     Later  every  one  imitated 

Dr.  Johnson.     Now  every  schoolboy  believes 

Dr.  Johnson's  English  is  all  wrong.     I  know  a 

very  brilliant  man  of  letters,  who  has  ruined 

his  style  and  immensely  lessened  his  influence, 

because  in  his  youth  he  was  an  enthusiastic 


276          A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY. 

O.  Craw-  admirer  of  Carlyle's  writings,  and  formed  his 
'      °         style  on  his.     It  is  a  difficulty  to  choose  aright, 
and  I  don't  quite  see  how  to  get  out  of  it.     I 
am  sure  in  my  own  mind  that  Dryden,  Defoe, 
Swift,    Bacon,     Berkeley,     Jeremy     Taylor, 
Barrow,     and   Goldsmith,    are  all,    in    their 
different  ways,  admirable  models,  but  I  would 
not  expect  any  one  to  take  my  authority  for  it. 
It  is  an  opinion,  not  a  dogma.     However,  if  I 
had  to  begin  again  I  would  try  to  find  out  the 
really    good    writers ;    I    would  study    their 
methods,  I  would  increase  my  vocabulary  from 
their  stores,  but  I  would  never  strive  after  any 
direct   imitation.     All  this,  I  suppose,  we   all 
do  more  or  less,  or  have  done,  consciously  or 
unconsciously  ;   but  I  would  make  it  a   very 
serious  study.     I  would  keep  notes  of  happy 
phrases,   neat   turns   of    speech,    appropriate 
words.     Of  one  thing  I  am  convinced  from  my 
own  experience,  that  the  power  of  every  man, 
in  whatever  rank  or  position  of  life  he  may  find 
himself,  is    made  greater,   his   usefulness    to 
himself  and  others  increased,  and  he  himself 
is  by  this  difference  raised    in    the   scale   of 
humanity,  if  he  has  learnt  to  express  himself 
in  written  words  easily,  clearly,  and  well.*' 


A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUEITY.          277 

EDWARD  EGGLESTON,  an  American  author,  E.E 
is  widely  known  this  side  the  Atlantic  ston* 
through  his  skilful  and  telling  stories.  He 
says  :  "  Facts  regarding  one's  mental  bio 
graphy  are  very  elusive.  The  environment 
of  my  boyhood  on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio,  a 
thousand  miles  inland,  was  so  totally  different 
from  anything  known  to  English  youth,  that 
I  should  have  difficulty  to  make  myself  under 
stood  were  I  to  go  into  particulars.  But  this 
I  may  say,  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  born 
in  a  family  in  which  literary  acquirement  was 
esteemed  above  everything  else  after  religion. 
I  was  taught  by  my  father,  who  died  when  I 
was  yet  but  a  little  lad,  to  deny  myseli  the 
pleasure  of  the  confectioner's  in  order  to 
spend  my  pocket  pennies  for  books.  He  little 
thought  what  an  extravagance  this  same  buy 
ing  of  books  would  come  to  be. 

"  I  do  not  remember  when  the  dream  of 
being  an  author  began  to  take  hold  of  my 
imagination.  From  ten  years  old  I  practised 
writing  diligently.  I  read  Blair's  Ehetoric,  and 
Kamer  on  Criticism,  but  the  good  I  got  from 
these  books  was  not  in  their  rules,  but  in  the 
habit  of  analysing  my  own  sentences,  and  of 


278         A    PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY. 

E.Eggle-  criticising  my  own  style.  It  is  generally  for- 
ston.  gotten  by  students  of  style,  that  clear  thinking 
is  back  of  all  clear  expression.  To  disentangle 
a  subject  and  go  straight  at  the  kernel  of  the 
matter  is  the  first  lesson.  The  early  habit  of 
telling  stories  and  expounding  subjects  to 
children  did  me  great  service  by  making  me 
impatient  of  any  obscurity.  To  be  able  to 
make  oneself  understood  by  children  and  plain 
people  is  a  long  step  in  the  direction  of 
habitual  lucidity.  Felicitous  expression,  in 
so  far  as  I  am  able  to  attain  it  at  all,  is  the 
result  of  painstaking.  As  I  grow  older  I 
work  more  and  more  patiently  upon  the 
details  of  expression,  and  interline  my  manu 
script,  to  the  sad  discomfiture  of  printers. 
I  have  lost  my  early  fluency  in  this  strife  after 
better  expression,  this  endeavour  to  avoid  the 
hackneyed,  and  to  find  truer  and  more  varied 
arrangement  of  thought  and  language ;  for 
prose  has  its  rhythm  as  well  as  poetry.  I 
sometimes  think  good  prose  is  harder  of 
achievement  than  good  poetry.  After  all, 
my  ideal  stands  away  ahead  and  mocks 
at  my  achievement.  I  come  so  far  short 
of  what  I  seek  that  it  seems  presumptuous 


A  PEOTEST   AGAINST   OBSCUEITY.          279 

for    me     to     make     suggestions     upon     the  E.Eggle- 
subject."  **on- 

BEANDEB    MATTHEWS,     as     essayist     and  •&•  Mat- 
novelist,  writes  in  a  cheerful,  witty,  and  agree 
able   style.     He   is   a  constant  contributor  to 
the  leading  American  magazines.      He   says : 
"  While  at  college,  and  when  a  law  student, 
I  used  to  write  ;  and  I  remember  that  I  tried 
always  to  know  what  I  had  to  say,  and  then 
to    say    it    directly    and    in     straightforward 
fashion.     The  authors  who  influenced  me  the 
most  were    Emerson,  Lowell,   and  Matthew 
Arnold,  all  of  whom  abhorred  the  obscure  and 
the   ornate.      I   have  always  read    almost   as 
many  books  in  French  as  in  English  ;  and  the 
general  level  of  French  prose  is  higher  than 
that  of  English.     To  a  beginner,  the  advice  I 
should   give   would  be  to  think  straight  and 
write  simply.     To  be  clear  is  the  first  duty  of 
a  writer :  to  charm  and  to  please  are  graces 
to  be  acquired  later.'5 

ROSE  TEEEY  COOKE  is  a  talented  American  Rose  T. 
author  of  graceful   verse    and  of  simple  and 
pathetic  stories.     Her  writing  is  characterised 
19 


280          A  PEOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUKITT. 

Rose  T.  by  purity  of  tone,  quaintness  of  humour,  and 
Cooke*  keen  observation  of  life.  "  I  was  not  educated," 
she  says,  "  with  any  idea  of  becoming  a  literary 
person ;  my  mother,  who  exclusively  taught 
me,  had  no  such  thought.  She  did,  however, 
train  me  early  to  express  my  thoughts  in  words. 
I  began  between  the  ages  of  six  and  seven  to 
write  a  daily  journal ;  and  every  day  I  was 
obliged  to  learn  by  heart,  both  to  spell  and 
define,  half  a  page  from  Walker's  Dictionary, 
and  was  given  two  words  from  that  task  to  use 
in  a  sentence  to  prove  I  understood  them.  I 
was  taught  to  read  early.  At  three  years  old 
I  could  read  anything  ;  and  I  remember  at  five 
being  set  up  on  the  counter  of  a  book-shop  to 
astonish  the  bookseller  by  reading  to  him  a 
page  of  black  -  letter,  which  my  father  had 
taught  me  to  read.  I  do  not  recommend  this 
too  early  training  in  any  case;  I  think  it  is 
always  a  mistake.  Of  course,  in  those  days  the 
reading  of  children,  as  far  as  children's  books 
were  concerned,  was  very  limited.  We  had 
Miss  Edgeworth's  books  and  Mrs.  Sherwood's  ; 
the  translated  Berguin's  *  Children's  Friend/ 
and  the  tales  cf  Madame  (Je  Genlis ;  but  I  soon 
finished  those,  and  foraged  for  myself  in  my 


A  PEOTEST  AGAINST    OBSCURITY.          281 

grandfather's  library.  I  read  Shakespeare  Rose  T. 
before  I  was  ten  years  old,  and  what  were 
then  called  '  the  English  Classics ' :  the  Bam- 
bier,  Spectator,  Tatler,  Idler,  World,  and  so 
on,  where  I  found  plenty  of  lucid,  racy,  if  old- 
fashioned  English.  I  read  Pope's  poetry,  too, 
with  parts  of  Dryden  ;  and  later  on,  Scott  and 
Campbell.  Byron  I  have  never  read,  except 
a  few  of  his  lyrics.  Southey,  Wordsworth, 
Keats,  were  all  familiar  to  me  early  in  life. 
My  later  reading  has  been  various,  for  I  read 
very  fast,  and  a  great  deal.  If  I  have  ever  had 
any  definite  idea  of  forming  a  style,  it  has  been 
merely  a  resolution  to  say  what  I  had  to  say 
as  simply,  clearly,  and  forcibly  as  in  me  lay. 
I  have  never  liked  the  obscurity  of  some 
modern  writers,  whose  splendid  genius  seems 
to  me  to  be  cruelly  shrouded  in  idle  words. 
It  has  always  appeared  to  me  a  real  wrong 
to  a  thought  or  an  idea  to  hide  it  in  a  mist 
of  language.  Further,  I  must  add  that  I 
have  constantly  had  before  me  the  strong  hope 
and  intention  to  do  some  work  for  God  in 
my  small  measure ;  this  has  been  a  strength 
to  me  always." 


282          A  PROTEST  AGAINST  OBSCURITY. 

To  bring  this  chapter  to  a  close,  I  may  quote, 
with  advantage  to  the  reader,  from  a  communi 
cation  written  by  an  Irish  poet  of  considerable 
power,  the  author  of  "  Stories  of  Wicklow," 
&c.  His  letter  can  hardly  be  termed  a  pro 
test  against  obscurity,  but  it  is  a  valuable 
affirmation  of  principles  which,  if  ob 
served,  will  enable  a  writer  to  avoid  that 
fatal  defect. 

G  F.  GEORGE  FRANCIS  ARMSTRONG  writes :  "  My 

Arm-  own  feeling,  generally,  is,  that  my  vocabulary  is 
s  rong.  jiot  kaif  jarge  enough,  and  that  I  am  often 
baffled  in  the  attempt  to  express  with  absolute 
distinctness  delicate  shades  of  thought  and 
emotion  which  I  wish  to  clothe  in  words.  I 
have  been,  however,  so  often  told  by  eminent 
intellectual  men  that  my  writings  do  show  a 
command  of  the  resources  of  expression  that 
suppose  my  mind  must  be  better  equipped 
and  more  agile  than  I  am  aware,  though  not 
as  flexible  or  richly  provided  as  I  could  desire. 
If  this  is  so,  I  think  any  special  aptitude  I 
possess  is  hereditary.  My  brother  had  a 
natural  gift  of  expression,  the  most  unusua 
and  striking  ;  and  I  perceive  a  remarkable 


A  P110TEST  AGAINST  OBSCUEITY.          283 

development  of  the  same  faculty  in  my  own  G.  F- 
children  ;  and  it  seems  to  be  derived  less  from 
my  father's  family  than  from  my  mother's — 
the  family  of  Savage,  which  has  given  to  the 
world  Eichard  Savage,  Walter  Savage  Landor, 
and  from  which,  strangely  enough,  Lord 
Tennyson  also  traces  his  descent.  If  I  have 
attained  to  any  excellence  in  my  art,  I 
attribute  this — 1st,  to  something  of  an  in 
herited  faculty ;  2nd,  to  constant  practice  from 
a  very  early  age  (I  began  to  write  poetry  at 
the  age  of  eleven) ;  3rd,  to  the  companion 
ship,  up  to  my  twentieth  year,  of  my  gifted 
brother,  whose  natural  endowments  I  have 
never  seen  equalled  throughout  all  my  later 
experience  of  life  ;  4th,  to  familiarity  from 
my  boyhood  with  the  greatest  authors  of 
ancient  and  modern  times ;  5th,  to  •  a  high 
ideal  which  such  familiarity  has  tended  to 
foster;  6th,  to  an  intolerance  and  hatred  of 
bad  workmanship  ;  7th,  to  an  anxiety  to  give 
the  reader  as  little  trouble  as  possible  to 
understand  what  I  have  wished  to  say." 

Referring  to  the  cultivation  of  a  good 
prose  style,  Mr.  Armstrong  says:  "If  I 
were  endeavouring  to  teach  the  art  of  prose 


284          A  PROTEST  AGAINST   OBSCUEITY. 

G.  F.        composition,   I   should   say — 1st,  the   student 

Arm-        should  get  hold  of  facts  and  digest  them  well ; 
strong.  B 

2nd,    that  he  should  arrange  them  in  logical 

order  in  his  mind  "before  attempting  to  com 
mit  them  to  writing ;  3rd,  that  he  should 
aim  at  a  clear  and  chaste,  rather  than  at 
an  ornate  style  of  expression,  avoiding 
eccentricities  and  affectations ;  4th,  that  he 
should  write  to  make  his  meaning  evident  to 
his  readers,  rather  than  simply  to  get  what 
he  has  to  say  written,  and  for  this  purpose  he 
ought  to  be  able  to  project  himself  into  the 
minds  of  his  readers  and  look  at  his  composi 
tion  as  an  outsider ;  5th,  that  he  should 
sattixdte  himself  with  the  works  of  the  best 
prose  writers,  not  only  of  his  own  country, 
but,  if  possible,  also  of  Greece,  Borne,  Italy, 
France,"  and  Germany  ;  6th,  that  he  should 
aim  at  uniting  the  best  elements  of  the  styles 
of  various  standard  authors,  and  not  copy 
that  of  any  one  author  in  particular;  7th, 
that  he  should  read  inferior  and  affected 
authors  from  time  to  time,  so  that  he  may 
learn  what  to  avoid;  8th,  that  he  should 
be  a  very  severe  and  exacting  critic  of  all  he 
does,  and  never  give  up  his  work  until  he  has 


PEOTEST  AGAINST  OBSCUEITY.          285 

brought  it  to  the  highest  perfection  possible  to  G.  F. 

him  at  tho  time.     Above  all   things,  I  believe     .rm' 

strong. 

a  writer's  ideal  will  be  elevated  by  the  study 
of  all  the  fine  arts — poetry,  painting,  music, 
sculpture,  and  even  architecture — and  of  the 
art  of  Greece  more  than  that  of  any  other 
country." 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 


~Ij^ 
J  J 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 
VEBY  man  will  be  most  effective  when 


j 

J  he  is  truest  to  his  own  individuality 
of  thought  and  expression."  This  sentence 
from  a  short  note  by  Dr.  Joseph  Parker 
gives  utterance  to  the  fact  I  am  anxious  my 
last  selection  of  contributions  shall,  more  or 
less  directly,  illustrate  and  confirm.  If  they 
show  my  reader  that  power  accompanies  work 
only  when  it  comes  out  of  the  worker's  being  ; 
that  life  reaches  life  as  nothing  else  can  ;  that 
soul  touches  soul  when  eloquence  and  scholar 
ship  fail  in  their  self-appointed  mission,  they 
will  amply  have  justified  their  reproduction 
in  these  pages. 

Truthfulness  means  the  correspondence 
between  the  outward  sign  and  the  inward 
reality.  Whenever  the  fact  is  knowingly 
distorted  in  the  statement  ;  when  the  show 
is  not  verified  by  the  substance  ;  when  fulfil 
ment  is  wilfully  made  to  come  short  of 
promise,  there  is  insincerity  in  one  shape  or 


200  TRUTHFULNESS  TO   ONE'S   SELF. 

another.  With  an  author,  any  approach  to 
such  a  fault  must  vitiate  all  his  work.  If 
his  words  do  not  express  his  thoughts,  or 
if  his  thoughts  do  not  express  his  convictions, 
his  composition  may  be  perfect  in  con 
struction,  but  it  will  lack  reality,  and  lacking 
reality  it  will  be  worthless.  Nothing  can 
offend  a  self-respecting  reader  more  seriously 
than  tawdry  imitation,  or  the  artificial  instead 
of  the  real. 

Chaucer  wrote  his  last  earthly  song  when 
lying  on  his  death-bed,  and  amid  great  anguish 
of  body,  and  the  burden  of  it  was  : 

Reul  wel  thiself  that  other  folks  canst  rede, 
And  truthe  shall  delyvere. 

No  better  counsel  can  any  author  follow.  Be 
true  to  your  own  heart,  to  your  own  nature ; 
put  your  own  personality  into  your  work. 
That  is  the  only  hope  of  superiority. 
Personalities  are  as  various  as  people  are 
numerous.  No  two  are  ever  alike.  Of 
necessity  it  must  follow  that  for  a  man  to 
be  effective,  he  must  be  genuine,  sincere, 
absolutely  true  to  himself.  He  must  think 
for  himself,  speak  in  his  own  way,  use  his 
own  language,  and  make  all  his  work  the 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO   ONE'S   SELF.  291 

honest  expression  of  his  inner  self.  Then 
his  style  will  be  his  own.  He  will  not  write 
in  the  fashion  of  Carlyle,  or  of  Tennyson, 
or  of  Browning.  He  will  be  his  own  true 
self.  The  sentiment  every  author  should 
cherish  is  well  put  in  a  forceful  verse  by  the 
Irish  lyric  poet,  the  late  William  Allingham: 

Not  like  Homer  would  I  write, 
Not  like  Dante  if  I  might, 
Not  like  Shakespeare  at  his  best, 
Not  like  Goethe  or  the  restj 
Like  myself,  however  small, 
Like  myself,  or  not  at  all. 

So   in   his    letter    upon    this    subject    Mr.    William 
ALLINGHAM  said  :  "As  to  style,  if  I  have  one,  Ailing- 
I  can  no  more  account  for  it  than  for  the  shape     am% 
of  my  nose.     I  was  always  fond  of  reading, 
and  enjoyed  very  various  styles  ;  when  I  tried 
to  write,  my   aim  was  to   speak  as  directly 
arid    naturally  as    possible    of    what    I    saw 
and  felt.     I  suppose  one  ought  to  imbibe  arfc 
from  familiarity  with  good  examples,  then,  in 
writing,  forget  all  examples  and  try  to  express 
something   that  strives  for  expression.     Style 
is  but  a  medium,   and  in  itself  of  no  value 
or  less;  I  would  not   encourage  any  one  to 


292     TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

William    cultivate  it,  unless  with  the  aim  of  clearness 
and  simplicity." 


But  is  style  in  itself  of  no  value  ?  Does 
not  a  writer's  merit  largely  lie  in  the  way 
he  utters  his  thought?  That  a  man  should 
be  true  to  the  truth  within  him  is  assuredly 
the  all-important  factor  in  his  literary  work  ; 
and  yet  it  is  also  certain  that  truth  ex 
pressed  will  he  more  alluring  and  impres 
sive  if  robed  in  beauty  than  if  meanly  or 
carelessly  attired.  Elegance  of  form  and 
attractiveness  of  arrangement  are  in  them 
selves  elements  of  power.  Many  a  volume  of 
noble  truth  owes  its  widespread  and  enduring 
influence  to  its  grace  and  charm  of  style. 
Strip  it  of  its  subtleties  of  harmony  and 
beauty,  and  you  leave  it  unsightly  and  un 
interesting  as  a  splendid  tree  robbed  of  its 
foliage. 

Walter         Perhaps  no  prose  writer  of  to   day  has   a 

Pater.       more  sensitive  imagination  or  a  more  chaste 

and  musical  style  than  WALTER  PATER.     Any 

statement  upon  our  subject  by  an  author  of 

such  scholarly  attainment,  as  well  as  of  such 


TKUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    293 

impressive  beauty  of  expression,  will  be  doubly  Walter 
welcome.  "  I  wish  I  could  send  you  anything  ^ater- 
helpful,"  says  Mr.  Pater,  "  towards  the  matter 
on  which  you  have  asked  my  opinion.  It 
would  take  me  a  long  time  to  formulate  the 
rules,  conscious  or  unconscious,  which  I  have 
followed  in  my  humble  way.  I  think  they 
would,  one  and  all,  be  reducible  to  Truthfulness 
— truthfulness,  I  mean,  to  one's  own  inward 
view  or  impression.  It  seems  to  me  that  all 
the  excellencies  of  composition,  clearness, 
subtlety,  beauty,  freedom,  severity,  and  any 
others  there  may  be,  depend  upon  the  exact 
propriety  with  which  language  follows  or 
shapes  itself  to  the  consciousness  within. 
True  and  good  elaboration  of  style  would,  in 
this  way,  come  to  be  the  elaboration,  the 
articulation  to  oneself  of  one's  own  meaning, 
one's  real  condition  of  mind.  I  suppose  this  is 
^he  true  significance  of  that  often  quoted  saying, 
that  style  is  the  man.  Of  course  models  count 
for  much.  As  beginners,  at  least,  we  are  all 
learners.  I  think  Tennyson  and  Browning, 
in  quite  opposite  ways,  have  influenced  me 
more  than  prose  writers.  And  I  have  come  to 
think  that,  on  the  whole,  Newman  is  our 


294  TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

Walter     greatest  master  of  prose,  partly  on  account  of 
rater.       ^e  varief;y  Of  his  excellence." 

p  G  PHILIP  GILBERT  HAMERTON  has,  perhaps, 

Hamcr-     done   more  to  familiarise   the  reading  public 
on'  with  the  principles  and  methods  of  art  than 

any  other  writer.  His  work  stands  amongst 
the  very  finest  examples  of  simple,  direct,  and 
thoroughly-trained  composition  to  be  found  in 
contemporary  literature.  "  For  some  years," 
he  says,  "  I  was  a  private  pupil  of  Dr.  Butler, 
of  Burnley,  who  thought  it  very  probable  that 
I  should  one  day  be  an  author,  and  who  most 
kindly  took  great  pains  with  me.  I  wrote 
hundreds  of  essays  for  him,  which  he  very 
carefully  corrected,  pointing  out  to  me  all  the 
faults — and  they  were  many — that  he  could 
discover.  He  had  a  very  cool,  sound  judg 
ment  as  a  critic,  and  though,  on  the  whole, 
his  way  of  dealing  with  my  work  was  en 
couraging,  he  chastised  it  very  freely.  I  have 
had  other  masters  for  foreign  languages ;  but 
for  English,  after  elementary  instruction,  Dr. 
Butler  was  my  only  master. 

"  My  present  system  of  writing  is,  first,  to 
make  a  very  free  and   rapid  rough  draft,  not 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    295 

applying  myself  with  any  conscious  care  to  the  p.  G 
expression,  but  writing  for  the  facts  and  ideas 
only.  This  done,  I  see  my  way  more  clearly, 
lengthen  some  passages  and  abridge  others, 
often  efface  whole  pages,  and  then,  when  the 
work  has  got  into  something  like  shape,  I 
criticise  and  amend  the  expressions.  I  be 
lieve  this  is  unquestionably  the  best  way  of 
composing.  I  think  it  is  a  mistake  to  try 
to  write  too  well  in  the  first  instance,  because 
the  matter  of  earliest  importance  is  to  get  the 
materials  down  on  paper  somehow,  and  the 
more  rapid  the  writing  the  better  the  chances 
of  getting  unity  into  the  work,  especially 
if  it  be  long.  But,  after  that,  I  should  say, 
spare  no  pains — spare  neither  pains  nor  paper 
— in  the  labour  of  correction,  which  answers 
in  literature  to  the  second  and  third  paintings 
on  a  picture.  I  should  say,  too,  that  it  is  of 
importance  for  a  writer  to  keep  his  eye  over 
the  whole  of  his  composition  as  much  as  pos 
sible,  and  so  keep  it  well  together,  not  con 
centrating  his  attention  too  much  on  details. 
I  hardly  ever  correct  anything  on  the  printed 
proofs,  except  mere  typographic  errors. 

"  I  would  not  recommend  any  young  man 

20 


296 

P.  G.        to  try  for  style   by  imitation  of  some  great 

Hamer-     magt;er .  neither  would  I    recommend  him  to 
ton.  .  ....__ 

strive  in  a  conscious  manner  to  be  original.   He 

should  seek  to  express  himself  clearly,  without 
affectation  of  any  kind,  and  then  pay  attention 
to  the  sound,  to  the  music  of  the  language, 
which  is  part  of  every  good  style,  even  when 
it  seems  quite  artless.  Good  writing  is  as 
much  a  fine  art  as  painting  or  musical  com 
position." 

A.  AUGUSTINE  BIRRELL  is  widely  known  as  the 

Birrell  author  of  "  Obiter  Dicta,"  a  series  of  clever 
essays  pervaded  by  much  elevation  and  re 
finement  of  spirit,  in  which  the  author  occa 
sionally  focuses  his  thoughts  in  sentences 
of  great  charm.  "  The  style  is  the  man,"  he 
says,  "  and  imitation  of  anybody's  style  is  as 
much  to  be  avoided  as  the  cock  of  his  hat, 
or  his  way  of  swinging  his  umbrella.  What 
can  be  more  odious  than  a  style  formed  upon 
Carlyle,  Kuskin,  or  Macaulay  !  My  advice  to 
any  one  who  aspires  to  write  well  is — First, 
avoid  ornament  and  write  plainly  and  tersely  ; 
secondly,  don't  try  and  be  funny — anything 
more  dreadful  than  a  forced  gaiety  or  elabo- 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    297 

rate  liveliness  it  is  hard  to  imagine  ;  thirdly,  A. 
never  let  a  day  pass  without  reading  a  really  J 
good  bit  of  English — an  essay  by  Addison  or 
Arnold,  a  sermon  by  Newman  or  Spurgeon, 
one  of  Cobbett's  Eural  Rides,  or  a  letter  of 
Cowper's.  Almost  all  modern  novels  are 
written  in  atrociously  bad  English.  In  con 
clusion  I  would  add,  be  temperate  and  re 
strained,  and  take  enormous  pains.  Nobody 
need  know  how  many  times  you  have  copied 
a  sentence  before  you  have  despatched  it  to 
the  press.  It  is  usually  important  to  have 
something  to  say.  I  have  nothing  more  to 
say,  so  will  now  give  you  an  example  of  a 
really  good  piece  of  English  :  When  you  have 
nothing  to  say,  say  nothing." 

EDMUND  GOSSE,  a  writer  of  both  prose  and  Edmund 
verse  rich  and  masterly  in  style,  says :  "  In 
reply  to  your  first  question,  although  I  cannot 
for  a  moment  allow  myself  to  accept  the  too 
gracious  words  you  apply  to  the  manner  of 
what  I  write,  it  is  true  that  all  my  life,  from 
childhood,  it  has  been  my  conscious  aim  to 
say  what  had  to.  be  said  as  exactly,  shortly, 
and  picturesquely,  as  possible.  I  think  the 


298    TEUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

Edmund  only  advice  that  can  be  given  to  young  people 
Gosse.  must  take  the  form  of  counsel  what  not  to 
say.  Let  a  man  speak  with  earnestness  and 
promptitude,  having  something  first  to  com 
municate,  and  let  him  eliminate  from  his 
speech  all  that  is  loose,  needless,  and  ineffec 
tive,  and  there  is  style,  the  pure  juice  of  his 
nature,  in  what  he  says.  So  that  I  should 
say,  the  first  recipe  is  complete  sincerity 
and  directness;  the  second  is  familiarity 
from  earliest  youth  with  what  is  best  in 
classic  English  verse  and  prose.  The  reading 
aloud  of  passages  of  special  weight  and 
splendour  of  style  is  doubtless  of  great 
practical  benefit.  With  all  this,  my  belief 
is  that  style  is  properly  an  inborn  faculty, 
like  the  other  imaginative  arts,  to  be  trained, 
chastened,  and  expanded  by  labour  if  it  exists 
in  the  nature,  but  not  to  be  implanted  in  a 
barren  ground  by  all  the  masterpieces  in  all 
the  literature  of  the  world." 

r  £  J.  COMYNS  CAKE,  the  editor  of  The  English 

Carr.         Illustrated  Magazine,  says  he    half   distrusts 

his   own  recollection   of  the    influences    that 

were  most  potent  in  early  youth,  and  shrinks 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    299 

from  appearing  to  speak  with  authority  to  /.  C. 
minds  differently  tempered  to  his  own,  and 
needing,  it  may  be,  another  impulse  and 
direction.  But  he  adds  :  "  I  am  of  opinion 
there  is  need  of  some  kind  of  exact  training  for 
the  mind  in  order  that  a  writer  may  acquire 
lucidity  and  coherence  of  thought.  This  exact 
training  may  be  of  several  kinds,  and  will  of 
course  vary  in  degree  according  to  the  special 
temper  of  each  individual.  In  my  own  case, 
I  always  feel  that  I  owe  much  to  the  early 
study  of  mathematics,  and  to  a  later  applica 
tion  to  the  science  of  law.  The  conditions 
of  study  are  in  both  cases  stringent  and 
exacting,  and  must,  I  think,  tend  to  the 
cultivation  of  logical  thought  and  clear  ex 
pression.  These,  in  my  judgment,  are  the 
essentials  of  a  true  style,  but  I  do  not  say 
that  such  studies  form  a  source  of  literary 
inspiration.  On  the  contrary,  I  am  disposed 
to  believe  that  for  this  there  is  only  one  true 
source,  and  that  is  the  love  and  study  of 
poetry.  I  speak  now  of  the  cultivation  of  a 
prose  style  ;  in  a  poet  born,  the  love  and  study 
of  poetry  will  beget  a  new  creation  in  the 
same  kind ;  but  even  for  the  cultivation  of  a 


300          TRUTHFULNESS    TO   ONE'S   SELF. 

J-  C.  sotmd  prose  style  I  believe  nothing  to  be  more 
fruitful  than  the  study  of  verse.  Do  not  think 
that  I  underrate  what  good  may  come  of  the 
admiration  and  even  imitation  of  the  master 
pieces  of  prose,  and  if  I  dwell  more  upon  the 
virtues  of  poetry  it  is  because  in  its  matter 
it  appeals  more  directly  to  us  when  we  are 
young ;  and  even  more  because  in  its  nature 
and  method  it  compels  a  closer  and  keener 
scrutiny  of  the  value  and  meaning  of  words. 
This,  if  I  may  say  so,  is  the  burden  of  what  I 
feel  disposed  to  give  by  way  of  advice." 

F.  G.  FRANCIS  GEORGE   HEATH,  referring  to  his 

Heath.  own  books,  says  :  "  To  my  great  astonish 
ment  they  have  been  welcomed  by  the  press 
generally  with  a  warmth  of  praise  quite  out 
of  proportion  to  their  merits.  I  ascribe  this 
particular  result  to  the  circumstance  that, 
apart  from  anything  in  the  nature  of  literary 
style,  I  have  always  written  as  I  have  felt, 
and  my  feelings  have  oftentimes  been  so 
strongly  stirred  by  the  indefinable  charm  of 
those  subjects  of  nature  which  I  have  mostly 
selected  for  my  themes,  that  elements  of 
enthusiasm  (which  are  said  to  be  contagious) 


TKUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.     301 

have  insensibly  crept  into  my  descriptions,  p, 
and  have  infected  my  reviewers  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  warp  their  judgment.  In  one 
of  my  books,  '  My  Garden  Wild/  I  have 
ventured  to  ascribe,  perhaps  unwarrantably, 
my  enthusiasm  for  the  beauties  of  nature  to 
the  fact  that  I  was  born  in  one  of  the  most 
exquisitely  beautiful  parts  of  England,  and 
it  is  probable  that  one's  feelings  are  influenced 
by  early  surroundings.  You  will  say  that 
possessing  feelings  and  having  the  faculty 
of  clearly  expressing  them  are  two  very 
different  things.  Assuming  the  possession 
of  the  ability  to  write  good  English,  I  think 
it  would  follow  that  the  cold  or  the  eloquent 
rendering  of  one's  feelings  would  be  very  much 
a  matter  of  enthusiasm  or  enthusiastic  tem 
perament. 

"  I  hold  with  a  good  many  others  that  the 
true  literary  art  is  very  much  inborn.  ...  I 
remember  that  when  very  young  I  had  a 
strong  inclination  to  write  the  autobiographies 
of  animals.  But  if  there  is  one  thing  more 
calculated  than  another  to  assist  in  the  clear 
expression  of  ideas,  assuming  the  pre-existence 
of  the  literary  tendency,  it  is  the  study,  I 


302    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

F.  G.  think,  of  popular  scientific  books.  I  was 
Heath.  always  very  fond  of  natural  philosophy,  and 
such  studies,  I  am  sure,  aid  very  much  in  the 
acquisition  of  a  clear,  logical,  and  lucid  style 
of  writing.  Cobhett,  you  remember,  bluntly 
said  that  the  man  who  did  not  write  correctly 
could  not  think  correctly.  There  is  much 
truth  in  this.  A  clear  writer  is  generally  a 
clear  talker.  But  I  believe  that  the  best 
method  of  writing  with  clearness  and  force  is 
to  lay  well  hold  of  the  thing  to  be  described,  to 
see  that  you  discern  it  clearly  with  the  mind's 
eye,  and  then,  in  the  most  logical  sequence 
and  in  the  simplest  language,  to  describe  it. 
A  writer  must  first  be  perfectly  sure  that  he 
himself  understands  what  he  is  writing  about 
before  attempting  to  communicate  his  ideas 
to  others.  Good  scientific  writing  must  be 
precis 3  and  clear,  because  nothing  can  be 
taken  for  granted.  Hence  my  belief  that  the 
study  of  scientific  works  constitutes  a  useful 
training." 

Mrs.  E.       EMILY  PFEIFFEB,   a  poet  of  wide  repute, 

Pfdffer.     Says:  "Education  in  my  young  days  was  not 

within  the  reach  of  the  gently  born  who  were 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    303 

also  poor,  therefore  I  had  little  or,  none  of  it.  Mrs>  E. 
In  those  years  of  disabling  ill-health  in  which  Pfefflr' 
my   early   maturity   was    passed   I  read   and 
thought  and  felt — in  a  word,  lived  a  life  that 
was  only  quiet  on  the  surface ;  and  when  at 
length    my  powers   were    released    from   the 
enfeebling     physical     conditions    which     had 
borne  upon   them  as   a  galling  chain,  and  I 
was  permitted  to  speak  for  myself,  I  was  too 
full  of  the   thing  I  had   to   say   to   be   con 
sciously  occupied  with  the  manner  of  giving 
it  forth.     '  Gerard's  Monument '  was  my  first 
true  utterance,  the  first  that  came  from  any 
inner  depth.      When  it   was   written   I   had 
passed  the  imitative  age,  although  I  am  con 
scious  in  that  poem  of  a  certain  indebtedness 
to  Coleridge  ;  in  no  other  of  my  writings  have 
I  moulded  my  thought,  in  ever  so  remote  a 
degree,  upon  the  form  adopted  by  any  other. 
In  the  formation  of  style,  the  sole  advantage 
of  which  I  am  aware  in  my  own  case  is,  that  I 
have  never  been  forced  to  write  when  I  had 
nothing  to  say.     When  I  have  composed,  it 
was   that  I  wished  to  reveal  to  other  minds 
a  thought  which,  for  the  moment,  had  become 
dear  to   me   as  a  child  of  my  own.     I  tried 


304    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

Mrs.  E.    to  exhibit  it  in  the  clearest  light,  because  I 
P/eiffer.     ^afl  faifch  in  ifcg  wort}1>     jf  j  adorned  it  at  all 

in  my  effort  to  commend  it,  it  was  not  in 
cold  blood,  but  in  a  sort  of  motherly  pride. 
I  rocked  it,  turned  it  about,  and  sung  to  it, 
because  the  thought  was  my  tyrant  and 
would  have  it  so.  Finally,  I  have  put  it 
from  me  with  regret,  and  from  discretion,  fear 
ing  lest  it  should  weary  rny  few  readers  to 
whom  it  could  never  be  all  that  it  had  been  to 
me.  With  the  exception  of  the  endeavour  for 
clearness — lucidity — which  is  the  basis  of  all 
that  is  good  in  style,  I  fear  there  is  nothing  in 
what  I  have  been  able  to  tell  you  at  all  likely 
to  be  useful.  One  thing  more  :  perhaps  in 
style,  the  symmetry  of  the  whole  is  more 
even  than  the  perfection  of  the  parts ; 
and  I  found  myself  from  the  outset  much 
helped  in  this  by  a  somewhat  deeper  know 
ledge  of  the  art  of  design  in  painting  than 
I  had  of  literature.  When  my  thought 
had  become  concrete,  taken  upon  itself 
a  body  of  external  circumstance,  I  looked 
at  it,  placed  it  upon  the  canvas  of  iny 
mind,  and  judged  it  as  if  it  had  been  a 
picture.  The  sense  of  harmony  and  pro- 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE*S  SELF.    305 

portion   in  one   art   was  thus  transferred  to  Mrs.  E. 
the  other."  *&&'• 

Other  writers  in  other  realms  of  literature  Arminita 
claim  consideration.  That  Hungarian  patriot,  Vambery. 
full  of  the  romantic  and  adventurous  spirit  of 
his  people,  AEMINIUS  VAMBERY,  the  author  of 
a  story  of  his  own  life  stranger  and  more  stir 
ring  far  than  any  fiction,  has  kindly  contributed 
a  few  lines  upon  our  subject  which  are  sure 
to  be  read  with  grateful  interest.  "I  would 
gladly  comply,"  he  says,  "  with  your  desire, 
referring  to  what  may  be  called  the  appropria 
tion  of  a  clear  and  intelligible  style,  but  this 
would  require  a  long  treatise  upon  the  art  of 
writing  and  composing,  a  task  to  which  I  could 
hardly  respond.  The  fundamental  law,  '  Le 
style  c'est  I'homme,'  makes  all  theories  and 
speculations  illusory ;  and  if  there  is  anything 
by  which  our  pen  is  rendered  expressive  it  can 
only  be  found  in  the  frequent  and  attentive 
reading  of  good  books,  and  in  the  fervent 
desire  to  communicate  our  thoughts  to  the 
reader  with  the  same  fire  and  in  the  same 
spirit  which  agitates  our  own  mind.  I  cannot 
invite  the  attention  of  a  reader  to  a  subject  of 


306         TRUTHFULNESS    TO    ONE'S    SELF. 

Arminius  the  truth  of  which  I  am  not  fully  convinced  ; 
Vambery.    an^  j  am  a^  a  jogg  ^Q  £n(j  ^Q  prOper  expression 

for  ideas  which  do  not  animate  me.  Style  is 
the  channel  from  one  heart  to  another; 
and  the  art,  how  we  transmit,  depends  greatly 
upon  the  nature  of  the  material  which  we 
intend  to  transmit.  This  is  the  case  with  me, 
but  I  could  not  vouch  whether  it  is  also  the 
case  with  others." 

J.  A.  JAMES  ANTHONY  FEOUDE,  the  historian,  is 

Froude.  a  writer  whose  style  is  almost  startling  in 
its  brilliance.  It  is  crisp,  nervous,  energetic, 
beautiful.  Whatever  comes  from  the  pen  of 
Mr.  Froude — history,  essay,  novel — is  composed 
with  a  vigour  and  power  of  fascination  unex 
celled  by  any  living  English  'author,  with  the 
single  exception  of  the  incomparable  John 
Buskin.  "  I  have  never  thought  about  style  at 
any  time  in  my  life,"  he  says.  "  I  have  tried 
merely  to  express  what  I  had  to  say  with  as 
much  simplicity  and  as  little  affectation  as  I 
could  command.  When  I  have  been  tempted 
into  exaggeration,  I  have  checked  myself  with 
imagining  what  some  one  whose  judgment  I 
respected  would  say  if  I  used  such  language  in 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE*S  SELF.    307 

speaking  or  writing  to  him ;  and  this  was  f.  A. 
usually  sufficient.  As  a  rule,  when  I  go  over  -Froude. 
what  I  have  written,  I  find  myself  striking 
out  superfluous  epithets,  reducing  superlatives 
into  positives,  bringing  subjunctive  moods 
into  indicative,  and  in  most  instances  passing 
my  pen  through  every  passage  which  had 
seemed,  while  I  was  writing  it,  to  be  particularly 
fine.  If  you  sincerely  desire  to  write  nothing 
but  what  you  really  know  or  think,  and  to  say 
that  as  clearly  and  as  briefly  as  you  can,  style 
will  come  as  a  matter  of  course.  Ornament  for 
ornament's  sake  is  always  to  be  avoided.  There 
is  a  rhythm  in  prose  as  well  as  in  verse,  but  you 
must  trust  your  ear  for  that.  This  is  very  vague 
and  inadequate,  but  it  is  all  that  I  can  give  you." 

F.  W.   NEWMAN  says :    "  I  am   afraid  my  F.  W. 
reply  will  disappoint  you.     Buffon  is  quoted  2 
as  saying  :  '  The  style  is  the  man.'     The  form 
of  the  utterance  is  French  ;  but  I  seem  to  hold 
the  same  belief  in  saying :  Good  composition 
depends  on  the  total  culture  of  the  mind,  and 
cannot   be   taught  as  a  separate  art.     It  de 
mands  habitual  accuracy  of  thought,  accuracy  in 
the  acceptance  of  words,  accuracy  in  logic,  and 


308    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

P.  W.  habitual  consideration  how  others — the  public 
— will  look  at  an  utterance,  from  what  side 
they  must  be  approached,  in  what  way  your 
arguments  must  be  ranged,  and  in  what  order 
of  words  a  clause  has  best  emphasis.  No  one 
will  write  well  who  has  to  make  a  study  of 
such  matters  when  he  sits  down  to  write.  All 
must  previously  have  become  an  ingrained 
habit,  perhaps  without  his  being  aware  of  it. 
Thus,  indeed,  many  ladies  are  beautiful  com 
posers  and  powerful  speakers.  Love  of  truth, 
eagerness  for  the  right,  a  mind  that  drives 
direct  at  the  object  and  is  not  seeking  to 
display  itself,  are  moral  factors  of  good 
composition. 

"You  ask  concerning  myself.  I  have  no 
objection  to  name  one  habitual  exercise  which 
I  believe  to  have  been  from  my  early  youth 
beneficial  to  my  English  writing,  though  it 
never  was  resorted  to  with  any  such  idea,  and 
that  is,  my  elaborate  culture  of  that  difficult 
accomplishment,  the  writing  of  Latin  prose. 
Classical  Latin  writers  eminently  avoid  ab 
stract  and  metaphysical  diction,  by  W7hich, 
as  I  suppose,  the  mediaeval  schoolmen  have 
corrupted  Europe  extensively.  In  writing 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.     309 

Latin  one  has  carefully  to  study  every  am-  F.  W. 
biguity  of  the  English  words,  and  in  recloth-  ew~ 
ing  thoughts  largely  to  discard  abstract  forms 
and  replace  them  by  the  concrete.  Ambiguity 
of  pronouns  must  also  be  guarded  against, 
and  everything  redundant  in  the  English 
thrown  away.  Such  exercise  conduces  to 
habitual  terseness,  which  is  in  general  a  virtue. 
Amplification,  and  even  repetition,  have  their 
fit  place ;  but  mere  verbosity  and  want  of 
point  are  very  common  failings.  My  advice 
to  a  pupil  would  be  : — Cultivate  accuracy  of 
words  and  things ;  amass  sound  knowledge ; 
avoid  all  affectation ;  write  for  practical  objects 
and  on  topics  which  most  interest  you,  on 
which  you  seem  to  have  something  worth 
saying.  To  a  prepared  mind  words  will  come 
of  themselves." 

EDWIN  A.  ABBOTT,   till    lately    the    head-  Dr. 
master   of  the   City   of  London    School,    the  Abbott- 
author  of  many  thoughtful  books  dealing  with 
vital   questions  of  the    day,    says  of  himself: 
"  Looking  back  on  the  means  that  helped  me 
to  write  clearly,  I  think  I  must  have  learned  a 
great  deal  from  teaching.     Perhaps  I  learned 


310    TEUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

Dr.  to   classify   and  to    avoid    some    errors    and 

Abbott,  ambiguities  and  faults  of  taste  by  constantly 
being  forced  to  note  them.  In  one's  earlier 
training,  too,  I  think,  one  learns  much  from 
the  practice  of  translating  from  Latin  and 
Greek  into  English.  Ancient  thought,  as  well 
as  the  structure  of  ancient  language,  is  so 
different  from  modern  thought,  that  it  is  very 
difficult  sometimes  to  express  the  meaning  of 
the  classical  authors  in  English  without 
ransacking  one's  English  vocabulary,  and  also 
turning  in  one's  mind  many  varieties  of 
English  expression.  But  I  think  I  have 
learned  something  from  noting  convenient, 
terse,  and  happy  turns  of  language  when  I 
have  met  them  in  my  English  reading.  I  can 
remember  that  I  was  past  twenty  before  it 
ever  occurred  to  me  to  use  in  English  that 
idiom — very  common  in  French,  and  now 
also,  peihaps,  too  common  in  English — which 
places  the  passive  participle  before  the  noun 
with  which  the  participle  agrees.  You  find  it 
now  in  every  obituary  column  :  '  Born  in  18 — , 
this  celebrated  man  was  destined,  &c.'  It 
ought  never  to  be  used  except  where  you  wish 
to  call  special  attention  to  the  participle,  but 


TRUTHFULNESS   TO   ONE'S   SELF.          811 

when  rightly  used  it  has  the  effect  of  varying  Dr. 
the  form  of  the  sentence,  besides  emphasizing  ^00 
its  participial  word. 

"Unconsciously,  I  dare  say,  I  have  taught 
myself  something  of  English  composition  in 
this  way,  but  I  think  a  caution  is   needed  if 
one  reads  English  authors  with  a  view  to  the 
improvement  of  one's  own  style.     It  is  so  easy 
to  fall  into  a  servile  trick  of  imitation  that  a 
student  of  style  ought  constantly  to  test   and 
examine  himself,  to  see  that  he  is  not  being 
carried  away  by  style  from  the  thought  which 
he  is  striving  to  express.     Clearness  and  force 
of  language  must  depend  on  clear  and  forcible 
thought,    and  that  again  depends  on  nature, 
experience,  and   training.     As  a  part   of  this 
kind   of  training,  I  would   especially   recom 
mend  every   one  to    master  the    meaning  of 
metaphor,  and  to  exercise  himself  in  expand 
ing  metaphor  into    simile  ;   also   he    should 
practise  the    art   of  denning,    and    learn  the 
exact   distinctions  of  words,    and   sometimes 
amuse  himself  by  making  up  new  words,  not 
for  public  use,  and  by  discovering  combina 
tions  of  thought  which  deserve,  but  have  never 
yet  received,  the  dignity  of  a  separate  name. 

21 


812          TRUTHFULNESS  TO    ONE'S   SELF. 

Dr.  I  ought  perhaps  to  add   that  I  never  publish 

Abbott.  anything  till  it  has  been  so  long  in  proof  that 
I  am  able  to  forget  it  and  criticise  it  coldly 
and  dispassionately,  picking  holes  in  it  where 
I  can ;  and  I  freely  invite  friends  to  do  the 
same.  That  is  a  great  help  to  writing 
clearly." 

Cardinal  HENRY  E . ,  CARDINAL  MANNING,  writes  I — "  I 
Man-  believe  one  of  the  chief  hindrances  of  the 
n*°  Christian  Father  is  pulpit  oratory.  I  mean 
the  studied,  elaborate,  artificial,  self-conscious 
declamation  of  Divine  and  Eternal  truths. 
Simple  nature,  reality,  forgetfulness  of  self, 
consciousness  only  of  truth  and  souls,  is  the 
highest,  most  convincing,  most  persuasive  of 
all  preaching.  If  a  man  knows  his  mother- 
tongue,  his  logic,  and  his  theology,  let  him 
avoid  studied  style  and  manner,  and  he  cannot 
fail."  What  the  Cardinal  says  so  forcibly  of 
preaching  may  be  said  with  equal  truth  of 
written  composition. 

C.  IL  CHARLES   H.   SPURGEON,  like  the  Cardinal 

Spur-        already     quoted,    is    not     only     a    powerful 
seon'          preacher,     but    a    prolific     author.      As     an 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    313 

author  his  books  have  perhaps  the  largest  C.  If. 
circulation  of  any  living  pulpit  luminary. 
"I  cannot  say,"  writes  Mr.  Spurgeon,  "that 
I  read  in  my  early  days  at  all  with  a  view 
to  style,  but  I  think  my  Saxon  comes  of  the 
Bible  and  John  Bunyan.  I  have  generally 
had  too  much  care  about  what  I  had  to  say 
to  give  serious  thought  to  the  way  of  saying 
it.  Tell  your  readers  to  get  their  matter  into 
their  minds,  feel  its  tremendous  weight,  and 
then  with  their  whole  hearts  endeavour  to 
impart  it.  The  style  will  come." 

STOPFOED  A.  BROOKE,  the  author  of  Stopford 
Eobertson's  Life  and  many  another  helpful  °°  e' 
book,  can  no  more  say  how  he  learned  to 
write  than  he  could  say  how  he  learned  to 
walk.  "  But  there  is  one  rule  which  always 
holds  good,"  he  adds  ;  "  study  the  masters  of 
any  art  in  which  you  wish  to  excel,  and  study 
their  masterpieces  before  you  study  their  ordi 
nary  work.  And  next,  whatever  you  desire  to 
do,  the  only  way  to  learn  how  to  do  it  is 
to  do  it  incessantly.  If  you  want  to  learn 
how  to  walk,  walk ;  if  you  want  to  learn  how 
to  write,  write.  Incessant  practice,  for  years 


314    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

Stopford   and    years,  is    the    only   secret  ;    but    never 
urooke.     without  having  before  you,  lest   you  become 
slovenly  or  verbose,  lest,  in  fact,  you  forget 
fine  form,  the  masterpieces  of  the  masters." 

Canon  B.  F.  WESTCOTT,  Canon   of  Westminster, 

Westcott.  cannot  say  that  he  ever  had  the  advantage  of 
any  special  or  definite  training,  either  in  writing 
or  speaking.  "  It  was  my  privilege  at  school 
to  learn,  under  the  first  Bishop  of  Manchester, 
to  believe  in  the  exact  form  of  words  and  to 
weigh  their  meaning  carefully.  As  a  school 
master,  in  my  turn,  I  sought  to  convey  to  my 
pupils  what  I  firmly  believed  ;  and  in  later 
years,  with  a  wide  field  of  teaching,  it  has 
been  my  single  desire  to  show  to  others,  as 
well  as  I  have  been  able,  the  fragments  of 
truth  which  have  been  made  known  to  rne, 
jusfc  as  I  saw  them.  As  far  as  I  can  judge, 
personal  conviction  is  the  one  secret  of  moving 
men.  And  as  for  expression,  I  do  not  know 
any  other  rule  than  that  of  taking  infinite 
pains  with  the  thought  itself,  which  be 
comes  clothed  by  the  effort.  I  shrink  from 
studying  even  the  greatest  authors  with  a 
view  to  catching  their  manner.  Words  and 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    315 

thoughts   alike   must  be  the   outcome  of  the    Canon 
whole  man."  Westcott. 


HUGH  MACMILLAN  brings  to  his  work  a  H.  Mac- 
wide  range  of  reading  and  a  most  sympathetic  #**&**. 
power.  He  is  a  genuine  lover  of  Nature, 
familiar  with  her  truth  and  beauty.  His  style 
of  writing  is  graceful  and  forcible.  "  I  am  not 
sure,"  he  says,  "  that  I  can  give  you  any  con 
tribution  on  the  subject  of  your  letter  of  the 
least  value.  Literary  style  is  so  much  an  in 
dividual  thing,  more  appreciated  perhaps  by 
others  than  by  the  possessor  himself,  who  is 
generally  more  alive  to  its  defects  and  dis 
abilities  than  to  its  excellences.  At  least,  for 
myself,  I  can  truly  say  that  I  wish  often 
times  my  style  were  quite  different,  and  that  I 
envy  greatly  the  style  of  others  I  could  name. 
I  am  painfully  sensible  of  my  weaknesses, 
and  my  inability  to  express  as  I  would  the 
thoughts  that  come  to  me  by  meditation,  or 
from  observation  of  the  world  of  nature  and 
man.  My  style,  however,  such  as  it  is,  has 
become  part  of  myself,  and  I  cannot  change 
it.  It  has  been  the  slow  growth  of  nearly 
forty  years  ;  for  I  began  to  write  for  the  Press 


316          TBUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S    SELF. 

H.  Mac-  when  I  was  fifteen  years  of  age.  I  have  cer- 
millan.  tainly  taken  as  much  pains  as  possible  to  make 
my  meaning  clear,  and  to  find  the  most  suit 
able  words ;  and  having  a  somewhat  poetic 
imagination,  I  could  not  help  giving  a  chro 
matic  edge  to  the  thoughts  that  passed 
through  it.  I  have  never  consciously  copied 
any  models,  and  never  tried  to  acquire  a 
special  style.  Mine  grew  naturally ;  but 
having  been  brought  into  personal  contact 
with  Christopher  North,  Professor  Aytoun, 
and  men  of  that  school,  I  suppose  I  learned 
unconsciously  to  imitate  their  flowing,  re 
dundant  manner,  and  to  write  not  bullet  but 
sheet  lead !  I  have  often  regretted  the  in 
fluence  of  such  a  style,  which  wras  the  pre 
vailing  one  in  my  younger  days,  upon  my 
mode  of  composition,  and  wished  I  could  have 
a  more  concise  and  graphic  style.  It  is  almost 
impossible  to  give  any  advice  upon  a  subject 
so  varied  and  individual  as  literary  manner. 
You  can  only  seek  to  impress  upon  others  the 
necessity  of  being  clear,  concise,  and  expres 
sive.  The  other  peculiarities  will  be  acquired 
insensibly  by  the  individual,  whose  stream  of 
thought  will  be  as  much  tinctured  by  the 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S   SELF.  317 

medium  through  which  it  passes  as  a  stream-  H.  Mac- 
let  tastes  of  the  qualities  of  its  channel.  mtllan* 
Every  writer  should  seek,  above  everything 
else,  to  be  natural,  to  be  himself.  Imitation 
is  always  poor  and  weak.  Every  human 
being  is  unique ;  has  some  quality  in  which 
he  is  singular  ;  and  if  he  succeeds  in  im 
pressing  his  own  individuality  by  his  writing 
upon  others,  he  will  have  done  them  a  ser 
vice  which  no  amount  of  imitation  or  con 
ventional  writing  can  impart.  After  all,  the 
thought  is  the  main  thing ;  and  when  the 
fountain  of  thought  is  stirred  by  some  angelic 
inspiration,  however  dark  and  dim  it  may  be 
at  first,  it  will  clarify  itself  as  it  flows  along, 
and  ultimately  become  limpid  and  transparent, 
which  is  the  perfection  of  style." 

THEODOBE    T.   HUNGER,   author  of   "  The  T.  T. 
Freedom  of  Faith  "  and  other  religious  books  Munger. 
that  fcave  a  manly  ring  from  cover  to  cover, 
says  that  he  knows  nothing  of  composition  as 
an  art.     "  I  somewhat   distrust    treatment   of 
composition  as  an  art  in  the  ordinary  sense.    I 
am  not  conscious  of  having  a  style.     I  simply 
try  to  say  the  thing  I  have  in  mind  as  well  as 


318    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  OXE'S  SELF. 

T.  T.  I  can.  If  it  happens  to  be  good  in  style,  I  am 
Munger.  unconscious  of  any  process  or  rule  by  which 
it  is  such.  If  the  thing  is  well  said,  it  is 
because  I  saw  clearly,  felt  deeply,  and  poured 
it  out.  Possibly  I  may  have  what  we  Yankees 
call  a  knack,  but  I  am  not  conscious  of  it. 
So  far  as  the  art  of  composition  can  be  taught, 
it  seems  to  me  to  depend  upon  a  knowledge  of 
the  elementary  rules  of  grammar  and  rhetoric, 
and  familiarity  with  good  literature.  Beyond 
that,  it  depends  upon  the  man  himself,  the 
intellectual  and  aesthetic  condition  into  which 
he  brings  himself.  Therefore,  I  would  not  say 
to  him,  '  Study  the  art  of  composition/  but  I 
would  say,  '  Improve  yourself ;  learn  to  think 
clearly  and  intelligently ;  learn  to  feel  nobly ; 
purify  and  perfect  your  taste  ;  fill  yourself  full 
of  knowledge,  &c.'  That  is,  when  you  have 
got  your  man,  you  have  got  your  style.  All 
things  are  from  within,  out.  Style  is  very  largely 
moral — in  the  wider  sense.  An  intelligent, 
trained,  true,  earnest,  refined  man  will  have 
a  good  style,  and  not  without.  Of  course  good 
judgment  must  preside.  Without  this  the 
man  will  fall  into  all  sorts  of  evil  ways.  But 
if  one  is  not  endowed  with  this  faculty  he 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.     319 

cannot  be  taught.     I  might  also  say  that  what   T.  T. 
is  called  a  good  style  is  a  matter  of  ear,  as  in  Munger 
music.     I  have  a  friend  who  does  not  know  a 
rule    of    grammar,    but    writes    perfect    and 
elegant  English  simply  by  the  force  of  a  clear 
mind,  a  fine  nature,  and  a  good  ear.     My  own 
rule  would  be  : — Be  something,  know   some 
thing,   feel   truly,  practise,  and   then   let  the 
style  be  what  it  will.     It  will  reflect  the  man, 
and  that  is  the  true  end  of  composition." 

I  will  now  invite  my  readers  to  consider  the 
experiences  of  a  different  class  of  authors  to 
those  we  have  already  quoted  in  this  connec 
tion.  Some  few  of  our  present-day  novelists, 
and  one  or  two  more  general  writers,  may  find 
a  place  here. 

H.  RIDER  HAGGARD  is  one  of  our  most  H.  Rider 
successful  sensational  romancers.  Written  in 
a  cleverly  realistic  style,  full  of  stirring  ad- 
venture  and  picturesque  description,  weirdly 
uniting  prosaic  characters  and  common-place 
scenes  with  supernatural  creatures  like  "  She," 
or  the  witch  in  "  King  Solomon's  Mines,"  his 
stories  are  truly  effective,  however  doubtful 


320  TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S   SELF. 

If.  Riaer  may  seem  the  wholesomeness  of  such  litera- 
•\  ture.  "  I  never  entered  on  any  special  course 
of  training  with  the  view  of  succeeding  in 
literature,"  says  Mr.  Haggard.  "To  be 
frank,  I  doubt  the  efficacy  of  such  preparation. 
Of  course,  a  certain  amount  of  practice  is 
necessary  for  the  manufacture  of  successful 
fiction,  inasmuch  as  the  writer  must  know 
what  to  treat  of  and  what  to  leave  alone,  what 
to  select  and  what  to  reject.  Also  he  must 
have  a  sense  of  proportion.  Whether  or  not 
tiiese  things  are  to  be  learned  it  is  beyond 
my  power  to  say.  Given  those  natural  powers 
which  are  necessary  to  the  production  of  really 
good  fiction,  it  is  probable  they  are ;  but  with 
out  those  natural  powers  disappointment  must 
result." 

Thomas  THOMAS  HAKDY,  author  of  "Far  from  the 
Hardy.  padding  Crowd,"  whose  realistic  and  delicate 
skill  in  character  painting  is  well  known,  says  : 
"  Any  studied  rules  I  could  not  possibly  give, 
for  I  know  of  none  that  are  of  practical 
utility.  A  writer's  style  is  according  to  his 
temperament,  and  my  impression  is  that  if 
he  has  anything  to  say  which  is  of  value, 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.     321 

and  words  to  say  it  with,  the  style  will  come   Thomas 
of  itself."  Hardy> 

F.  W.  ROBINSON,  a  profuse  novelist,  best  pt  wt 
known  by  his  story  entitled  "  Poor  Humanity,"  Robin- 
says   he  had  no   special  training.     "  I  think  son* 
if  all  young  writers  would  try  to  be  unaffected 
and  clear,  and  begin  early  enough,  they  would 
soon    attain    a  ^tyle    of    their    own,    and    a 
fair    one,   too.      One   hint   I   may   give  you, 
not   a  new   one,     I  have  been  in  my  little 
way  always  in  earnest  about  my  work.     The 
scenery  of  the  London  slums  I  have  seen  and 
studied  before   writing    about,   and  the  char 
acters  of  my  stories  are  parts  of  real  beings  I 
have  met.     This  gives  clearness  of  expression 
in    style,    probably     always.      Authors     like 
artists,  must  have  life  models.'* 

MAXWELL  GREY  is  the  nom  de  guerre  of  Maxwell 
Miss  M.  G.  Tuttiett,  the  author  of  a  few  finely- 
conceived  stories,  written  with  rare  charm. 
After  excusing  herself  for  sending  so  short  a 
note  on  the  ground  of  ill-health,  she  being 
scarce  able  to  work  for  an  hour  and  a-half  a 
day,  and  that  only  on  her  "good  days,"  she 


322    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

Ufaxweh  says:  "My  personal  experiences  with  regard 
Grey.  fco  preparation  for  authorship  and  formation 
of  style  are  a  long  series  of  heart-breaking 
failures,  crowned  at  last  by  comparative  suc 
cess.  Being  self-educated,  and  having,  accord 
ing  to  the  proverb,  a  fool  for  teacher,  I  tried 
to  finish  the  steeple  before  laying  the  founda 
tion.  I  will,  however,  say,  that  I  believe 
the  following  to  be  the  best  ^nethods  for  the 
acquisition  of  a  good  style  :  A  thorough  know 
ledge  of  that  branch  of  logic  called  grammar ; 
the  habit  of  grammatically  analysing,  according 
to  the  rules  given  in  Morell's  Analysis  ; 
when  possible,  the  study  of  grammar  and 
analysis  in  other  languages,  the  more  the 
better;  familiarity  with  the  best  writers  in 
one's  own  and  as  many  literatures  as  possible ; 
a  thorough  historical  knowledge  of  one's  native 
language.  But,  after  all,  style,  though  it  may 
be  improved  by  cultivation,  is  in  the  end  but 
the  natural  clothing  of  the  thought,  and  a 
loose  thinker  will  always  express  himself  in 
a  slovenly  manner,  for  which  reason  I  distrust 
Emerson.  Further,  more  moral  qualities  go 
to  the  making  of  style  than  is  commonly  sup 
posed;  such  homely  virtues  as  self-restraint, 


TRUTHFULNESS   TO   ONE*S   SELF.  323 

modesty,  sincerity  —  see  Kuskin's  '  Seven  Maxwell 
Lamps  of  Architecture  ' — serve  to  light  other  ^rey* 
than  building  arts.  The  habit  of  making 
verses  is  not  to  be  despised ;  it  is  a  pity  an  art 
so  graceful  and  instructive  is  not  more  culti 
vated.  It  educates  the  ear,  and  accustoms 
people  to  select  words  ;  though  it  is  liable  to 
abuse,  and  tempts  people  to  be  flowery,  and  to 
fill  in  rhymes  and  stanzas  with  meaningless 
jingle.  If  there  is  any  good  in  my  style, 
which  I  have  always  aimed  at  perfecting,  it  is 
owing  to  the  methods  I  have  indicated.  It 
ought  to  be  a  small  lesson  on  style  to  compare 
'  Annesley '  in  Murray's  with  the  '  Annesley  ' 
in  volumes,  just  to  show  young  folk  the 
necessity  of  labour." 

ELIZABETH  BUNDLE  CHARLES  is  the  author  Mrs. 
of  "  Chronicles  of  the  Schonberg  -  Cotta 
Family,"  a  series  of  pleasant  stories,  pure  and 
lofty  in  tone,  admirably  written,  and  well- 
calculated  to  interest  and  benefit  young 
readers.  She  says  :  "I  can  only  give  you 
my  experience  very  briefly.  I  have  never 
made  any  effort  or  special  study  how  to  say 
things.  To  be  quite  clear  what  I  wanted  to 


324  TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S   SELF. 

Mrs.  say  seemed  to  me  to  ensure  saying  it  in  the 
Charles  ^es*  wa^  P°ssible  for  me.  I  have  as  little 
thought  of  manner  in  writing  as  in  speaking, 
and  I  believe  the  best  I  have  written  I  have 
written  most  easily.  Labour,  honest  work, 
there  must  indeed  be  ;  but  that  has  been  in 
grasping  the  subject  and  in  thinking  it  out. 
I  believe,  also,  the  best  way  to  ensure  a  good 
manner  is  to  keep  good  society,  and  that, 
happily,  is  open  to  all  of  us.  The  best 
thoughts  of  the  best  thinkers  are  ours. 
They  are  there,  even  if  we  do  not  go  beyond 
our  own  great  English  literature— the  sweetest 
singers,  the  most  eloquent  orators,  the  keenest 
investigators,  the  most  imaginative  and  pro- 
foundest  writers — they  are  there,  in  their 
books,  at  their  very  best,  with  their  very  best 
for  us.  Let  us  keep  that  high  and  gracious 
company,  Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  Milton, 
Bunyan,  Herbert,  Taylor,  and  then  the  great 
later  group,  Scott,  Wordsworth,  Tennyson. 
But  above  all,  before  all,  and  through  all, 
the  English  Bible,  with  its  direct,  rhythmical, 
homely  English,  simple  enough  for  any  fire- 
Bide,  stately  enough  for  any  solemnity." 


TETJTHFULNESS  TO   ONE'S   SELF.  325 

MARY  E.  KENNARD  says  :  "  I  can  assure  you  Mrs. 
I  am  a  veritable  ignoramus,  and  have  no  Mary  E. 
pretensions  whatever  to  being  a  literary  nar£ 
authority.  I  had  no  training,  being  one  of 
five  sisters  imperfectly  educated  by  foreign 
governesses  who  were  unable  to  teach 
English  composition.  What  little  talent  I 
possess  is  probably  hereditary.  My  grand 
father,  Mr.  Samuel  Laing,  was  a  well-known 
Norwegian  traveller  and  author.  My  father, 
S.  Laing,  besides  being  a  public  man  most  of 
his  life,  is  also  the  author  of  several  scientific 
works.  My  own  motto  is — work.  Never  be 
content  with  what  you  have  done,  but  try 
always  to  progress.  To  this  end  no  pains 
should  be  spared.  As  an  instance,  the  first 
book  of  mine,  *  The  Eight  Sort/  was  written 
no  less  than  four  times  from  beginning  to  end, 
thus  making  twelve  volumes  of  manuscript. 
One  of  my  critics  said  that  '  Mrs.  Kennard'a 
book  had  been  written  at  a  gallop.'  I  knew 
this  was  not  the  case,  and  that,  whatever 
errors  of  inexperience  I  had  committed,  I  had 
at  least  given  to  the  public  what  was  at  that 
time  my  best  endeavour.  This  consciousness 
consoled  me  for  the  criticism.  ...  I  generally 


326    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

Mrs.  make  a  rough  copy  in  pencil  of  each  chapter, 
Mary  E.  }iavmg  the  general  plot  in  my  head.  This  I 
nard.  proceed  to  write  down  carefully,  and  revise 
every  chapter  three  or  four  times  as  I  go  on. 
When  finished,  I  frequently  put  my  manu 
script  away  for  three  or  four  months,  and  do 
not  look  at  it  in  the  interval.  Then  one's  eye 
becomes  keener  to  detect  faults.  People  often 
say  to  me,  '  Is  it  not  a  great  amusement  to 
write  novels  ? '  I  do  not  think  these  people 
quite  understand  the  sense  of  responsibility 
novel-writing  brings.  It  is  no  more  an 
amusement  than  any  other  work  which 
requires  long  and  sustained  endeavour,  per 
severance,  and  mental  attention.  It  has  its 
rewards  in  the  shape  of  occupation,  increased 
knowledge  of  life  and  powers  of  observation ; 
but  it  neither  is  nor  ought  to  be  regarded 
in  the  light  of  an  amusement  by  any  con 
scientious  author." 

Miss  f.        Another  lady  novelist,  F.  MABEL  EOBINSON, 

^Robin        says  :    "  ^e    ^ea    °^   wr*tin&    books    never 

son.  occurred  to  me  until  a  few  years  ago,  and  I 

devoted  most  of  my  girlhood  to  painting,  so 

that  my  literary  education  was  comparatively 


TEUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    327 

neglected    and   my   work  is  less  methodical  Miss  F. 


than  it  would   have   been   had  I  turned  my   „ 

J    Robm- 
attention  to  literature  earlier.     I  expect,  too,  SOHt 

that  I  give  myself  a  great  deal  of  trouble  that 
more  methodical  persons  avoid.  As  my  own 
style  is  far  from  what  I  wish  it  to  be,  and  as 
I  am  conscious  of  a  great  want  of  classical 
knowledge,  I  feel  some  diffidence  in  expressing 
my  views  ;  for  if  I  say  that  a  very  great  atten 
tion  to  style  seems  to  me  an  error,  I  feel  that 
I  am  open  to  the  retort,  *  Yes,  I  should  have 
guessed  so  from  your  writings  ;  '  but  none  the 
less  do  I  think  that  the  leading  writers  of  our 
time  are  disposed  to  certain  affectations  and 
graces  that  will  not  add  to  the  lasting  value 
of  their  work.  What  you  say  is  of  more  im 
portance  than  the  grace  with  which  you  say  it  ; 
and  if  I  were  advising  young  writers,  I  should 
bid  them  first  make  quite  sure  of  what  they 
want  to  say,  and  then  say  it  as  plainly  and 
as  exactly  as  they  can.  It  is  better  to  hunt 
the  right  word  half  a  morning  than  to  rest 
satisfied  with  a  word  a  plie-pres.  Style  is  to 
a  very  great  extent  a  thing  of  fashion,  but 
human  feeling  is  for  ever  interesting.  If  the 
mind  of  an  author  be  cultured  his  style  is  sure 
22 


328          TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S   SELF. 

Miss  F.     to  be  sufficiently  elegant,  and  if  he  be  a  person 

n  , .         of  little  education  his  work  may  be  none  the 

son.  less    valuable,    provided    he    be     content    to 

express  himself  with  sincerity.     I  expect  that 

had  Burns  striven   to   emulate  the  language 

of  the  English  gentleman,  his  genius  would 

have  been   smothered    by   the   affectation   of 

his   style.      At  the   best   a  laboured  manner 

detracts  from  the  illusion  which  the  writer  of 

fiction  tries  to  produce." 

Lady  EMILIA  F.  S.  DILKE,  one  of  our  most  cul- 

Dilke.  tured  and  most  delightful  female  writers, 
whose  books  are  always  charming  both  for 
their  lucidity  and  vivacity,  writes  :  "As  a 
child  I  had  the  run  of  an  old-fashioned 
library,  and  I  used  to  read  a  great  deal  of 
old  English.  I  had  scarcely  ever  any  chil 
dren's  books,  but  knew  Mallory's  *  Morte 
d'Arthur,'  Spenser's  '  Faerie  Queene,'  and  a 
good  deal  of  Elizabethan  and  earlier  literature 
almost  by  heart.  All  my  life  I  have  read 
much  in  this  way,  such  classics  as  I  could,  in 
cessantly,  over  and  over  again,  but  hardly  any 
general  literature.  When  I  began  to  write 
for  money  on  reviews,  I  used  to  try  to  be  very 


TEUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    329 

sure  that  every  word  I  put  on  paper  repre-   Lady 
sented  exactly  what  I  had  it  in  my  mind  to      l   e' 
say ;  and  still,  if  I  cannot  get  the  matter  to  my 
mind  I  write  and  rewrite  till  I  have  got  it  as 
near  as  possible.     And,  in  the  same  way,  if  I 
think  the  arrangement  of  an  argument  or  of 
any  long  piece  of  exposition  unmethodical,  I 
pull  it  to  bits  at  once,  and  rewrite  three  or 
four  times,  until  I  feel  sure  that  it  is  as  lucid 
as  I  can  make  it.     Only  once  or  twice  I  have 
deliberately   tried,   as    an    exercise,   to   write 
something  as  elaborately  modern  as  I  could ; 
but  as  soon  as  I  found  I  could  do  it,  I  went 
back   to   the   simple   habit   of   insisting  with 
myself  that  I  should  be  sure  of  my  thought, 
and  next,  sure  that  my  words  fitted,  as  well  as 
words  could,  that  thought.    Any  success  I  have 
had  I  think  must  be  due  to  the  taking  of  infi 
nite  pains  to  this  end.     After  all,  my  husband 
thinks  my  French  style  in  *  Claude  Lorraine  ' 
better  than  my  English  style,  except  in  my 
stories ;  and  in  those  I  believe  the  early  read 
ing  of  such  things  as  the  '  Morte  d'Arthur ' 
has  unconsciously  influenced  every  line." 

I  have  a  series  of  interesting  contributions  I 


330    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE*S  SELF. 

will  now  place  before  my  reader,  bearing  more 
or  less  directly  upon  the  topic  of  this  chapter, 
written  by  several  eminent  American  authors. 
Their  names  are  mostly  known  to  English 
readers,  and,  except  in  one  or  two  instances, 
their  works  have  a  wide  circulation  here. 
Will  WILL  CARLETON,  the  author  of  "  Farm 

ar  e  on.  j3anaflSj"  an(j  several  books  of  poetry  written 
with  a  genuine  and  homely  pathos  seldom 
equalled,  says  :  "  My  preparation  for  life  work 
consisted  of  a  fair  common-school  training, 
four  years  in  college,  and  what  human  nature 
I  could  gather  in  travelling  through  different 
parts  of  my  own  country.  My  purpose  in 
writing  is  to  connect  all  classes  of  people 
with  one  common  bond  of  sympathy  ;  to 
picture  all  grades  of  life  in  such  a  way  that  all 
grades  will  read,  understand,  and  feel  it,  thus 
learning  about  each  other  and  themselves  ; 
to  induce  the  rich  to  help  the  poor,  and  the 
poor  to  pity  even  the  sorrows  of  the  rich ;  and, 
in  fine,  to  touch  and  draw  out  that  vein  of 
poetry  and  feeling  which  exists  somewhere  in 
every  human  nature.  My  method  of  writing 
is  to  tell,  as  far  as  possible,  my  own  thoughts 
and  feelings  in  my  own  language,  and  the 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    331 

thoughts  and  feelings  of  others  in  their  Will 
language,  and  to  remain  unprejudiced  and 
uninfluenced  by  other  writers,  using  what  I 
find  in  them  as  suggestions  and  not  as  dicta 
tion  ;  to  use  them,  indeed,  not  as  masters,  but 
as  fellow-pupils.  I  cannot  always  escape  the 
influence  of  old  and  established  styles  ;  I 
admire  the  genius  of  those  who  have  done 
good  work;  but  I  cannot  feel  that  it  is  my 
interest  to  be  their  slave.  This  often  brings 
me  attacks  from  the  critics,  especially  in  my 
own  country ;  but  I  endure  their  bitterness  very 
well,  so  long  as  the  people  continue  with  me, 
which  I  may  say,  without  vanity,  they  have 
done.  I  do  not  often  say  so  much  about 
myself,  and  hope  that  in  complying  with  your 
request  I  have  in  your  estimation  steered  clear 
of  egotism." 

JOHN  BOYLE  O'KEILLY,  the  Irish-American  /.  B. 
poet,  is  described  as  having  won,  by  his  gifts  O'Reilly. 
of  imagination  and  the  captivating  grace  of  his 
social  presence,  the  reputation   of  being  the 
most  romantic  figure  in  literary  Boston.     "  If 
there  is  any  style  about  my  work,"  he  says, 
"  it  is  a  style  of  thinking,  not  writing.     The 


832    TKUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

/.  B.  writing  will  take  care  of  itself.  I  gave  myself 
O  Reilly.  no  gpecjai  training  in  yonth  to  form  a  style  ; 
I  never  thought  of  it.  I  was  born  among 
books,  in  a  lovely  and  lonely  country  place  in 
Ireland,  surrounded  with  wonderful  historical 
associations  and  monuments  of  ancient  and 
unknown  races.  I  am  sure  that  this  asso 
ciation,  first  of  all  things,  made  me  think — by 
thinking  I  do  not  mean  mere  reflection,  or 
reviewing  of  what  might  have  been,  but  true 
excogitation.  I  found,  even  as  a  little  boy, 
that  many  or  most  other  people  did  not  think ; 
and  that  my  thought,  no  matter  what  it  was, 
excited  more  or  less  attention  and  remark. 
My  father,  and  particularly  my  mother,  were 
persons  of  fine  sentimental  individuality,  and 
they  unconsciously  directed  me.  Then,  in 
boyhood  and  manhood,  I  followed  an  ideal 
that  led  me  through  briers  and  marshes — the 
national  liberty  of  my  native  country.  This 
taught  me  great  things — sincerity,  faithfulness, 
silence,  sacrifice,  and  hatred  of  injustice — and 
also  opened  my  mind  to  the  woful  truth  that 
error,  prejudice,  tyranny,  &c.,  are  habitual  and 
conventional  more  than  deliberate — that  gene 
rations  inherit  their  opinions  as  they  do  their 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO   ONE'S   SELF.          333 

conditions.     Then  followed  years  of  suffering  J.  B 
for  thinking  these  things  ....  during  which       - 
the  inner  man  was  formed,  and  the  style  was 
only  the  flowing  of  the  welled-up  thought. 

"  A  man  of  this  training,  coining  at  twenty- 
five  to  this  seething  Republic,  must  go  on 
thinking  and  speaking,  and  hence  gain  more 
or  less  facility  of  expression.  All  my  life, 
from  childhood,  I  have  read  great  books.  I 
knew  Shakespeare  at  twelve  as  thoroughly  as 
my  little  daughters  of  ten  and  twelve  know  him 
now.  All  children  will  love  Shakespeare  if  he 
is  read  to  them.  I  have  passed  all  my  waking 
leisure -time  reading.  The  boy  who  reads 
Shakespeare  year  after  year  must  acquire  style, 
for  he  acquires  thought  and  words — his  deeper 
feelings  are  stirred.  Growing  into  manhood 
the  two  writers  who  most  profoundly  affected 
and  held  me  were  Victor  Hugo  and  Carlyle— 
strange  masters  for  style,  but  noble  masters 
for  the  inner  and  higher  thing.  Later,  in 
Boston,  I  knew  and  loved  our  most  eloquent 
American,  Wendell  Phillips.  But  the  effect 
of  all  these  upon  me  was  without  conscious 
desire  on  my  part.  That  which  we  yield 
to  becomes  part  of  us,  though.  The  only 


334    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

/.  B.  style  I  have  ever  sought  was  clearness — to 
O  Rally.  gav  mv  thought  completely,  briefly,  and 
simply ;  to  say  it  so  that  all  should  read  iny 
meaning.  An  involved  sentence,  or  an  imper 
fect  sentence,  seems  to  me  to  be  a  symptom  of 
disease,  a  result  of  some  twist,  or  pleurisy,  or 
lesion  in  the  finer  brain-lines.  A  thought  is 
always  beautiful,  and  the  less  formality  or  ver 
bosity  about  its  expression  the  better.  Were 
we  well  educated  it  would  express  itself  as  a 
seed  expresses  itself,  simply,  individually,  nobly 
— here  a  grass-blade,  there  a  strawberry,  yonder 
a  tree,  elsewhere  a  field-flower.  Style  is  a  vile 
study.  Individualism  is  the  highest  style ;  to 
be  able  to  say  how  we  see  the  world  with  our 
own  eyes,  and  not  with  the  conventional 
spectacles  fitted  on  us  at  school." 

W.  D.  WILLIAM  DEAN  HOWELLS  has  been  called 
Howells  the  Meissonier  of  literature.  His  ideal  is  to 
paint  life  as  it  is,  simply  to  hold  up  the  mirror 
to  nature.  This  has  led  him  to  an  elaborate 
analysis  and  minute  portraiture,  which  cer 
tainly  proves  more  of  a  weakness  than  a 
strength,  in  that  the  moralist  is  apt  to  get  the 
better  of  the  artist.  Still,  his  books  are  always 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.     335 

powerful,  and  are  composed  with  much  grace    W.  D 
and  charm.     Of  himself  he  writes  :— "  I  began  Howdls< 
to  compose  by  imitating  other  authors.     I  ad 
mired,  and  I  worked  hard  to  get,  a  smooth, 
rich,  classic  style.      The  passion  I  afterwards 
formed  for  Heine's  prose  forced  me  from  this 
slavery,  and  taught  me  to  aim  at  naturalness. 
I  seek  now  to  get  back  to  the  utmost  simplicity 
of  expression,  to  disuse  the  verbosity  I  tried 
so  hard  to  acquire,  to  get  the  grit  of  compact, 
clear  truth,  if  possible,  informal  and  direct.     It 
is  very  difficult.     I  should  advise  any  beginner 
to   study  the    raciest,   strongest,  best  spoken 
speech,  and  let  imprinted  speech  alone;  that 
is  to  say,  to  write  straight  from  the  thought 
without  bothering  about  the  manner,  except 
to   conform   to    the   spirit   or    genius   of  the 
language.      I  once  thought  Latinised  diction 
was  to  be  invited ;  I  now  think  Latinised  ex 
pression  is  to  be  guarded  against." 

GEOEGE  W.  CABLE  is  one  of  the  greatest  G.  W. 
American    literary   artists    since   Hawthorne.   Cable. 
His  stories  of  Creole  life  are  full  of  dramatic 
action,  of  warm  feeling,  of  a  humour  and   a 
colouring  all  his  own.      "  From  quite  an  early 


336    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

G.  W.  date  in  ray  school-experience  as  a  boy,"  he 
says,  "  I  developed  a  bent  for  literary  produc 
tion  and  construction,  and  by  natural  instinct 
studied  style,  but  never  had  a  teacher  compe 
tent  to  teach  the  art ;  and  as  to  books,  studied 
only  rhetoric,  among  text-books.  As  to  my 
method,  I  am  only  conscious  of  one  feature  of 
it,  and  that  is  to  conceive  my  reader  as  being 
a  wise,  noble,  sincere  person,  able  to  appreciate 
grave  and  light  treatment  of  subjects  according 
to  their  fitness,  and  utterly  intolerant  of  all 
affectation  and  ungenuineness  ;  also  a  person 
with  very  little  time  to  spare  to  listen  to  what 
I  have  to  indicate.  I  am  almost  tempted  to  say 
that,  as  far  as  I  know,  this  is  my  whole  art." 

F.  R.  FKANK  E.   STOCKTON  is    one  of   the  most 

Stockton,  delightful  humorists  of  America,  skilful  in 
discovering  impossible  and  most  amusing 
situations.  His  books  are  crowded  with 
clever,  bright,  though  extravagant,  touches 
of  nature.  "  I  think  I  never  studied  any 
author,"  he  writes,  "  with  a  view  to  the 
formation  of  my  own  style.  I  found,  however, 
it  was  a  very  easy  thing  for  me  to  uncon 
sciously  imitate  the  peculiarities  of  certain 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO    ONE'S   SELF.          337 

styles  which  interested  arid  pleased  me,  and  F.  Jt 
it  was  for  this  reason,  when  a  young  man 
and  writing  for  children,  that  I  gave  up 
entirely  the  reading  of  Hans  Christian 
Andersen's  books,  for  I  found  myself 
imitating  his  methods  of  expression.  This 
I  did  not  wish  to  do.  His  style,  even  as 
indicated  in  the  translations  I  read,  belonged 
to  him,  and  I  had  no  right  to  endeavour  to 
acquire  it.  I  mention  this  because  I 
think  it  is  the  only  instance  in  which 
I  have  considered  the  style  of  an  author 
in  reference  to  my  own.  Whatever  merit 
my  methods  of  expression  may  possess, 
is  due,  I  believe,  to  my  constant, 
earnest,  and  ever-anxious  desire  to  make 
my  readers  understand  what  I  mean.  I 
work  slowly,  because  I  am  not  willing  to 
have  a  sentence  put  upon  paper  until  I  am 
fairly  certain  that  I  could  not  have  expressed 
it  more  clearly." 

JOHN   TOWNSEND  TROWBRIDGE    is    one  of  J.  T. 

the    purest  American    humorists.      Both    in   ^~r?™~ 

bridge* 
poetry    and     prose     he    writes    in    spirited, 

realistic   style.     "  I  am  almost   as    much    at 


338    TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

/  T.         a  loss  to  explain,"  he  says,  "  how  I  came  by 

TtOW-  i     -t  r  •  i  •  •  T 

mv   s^e   °*  writing  in  prose  or  verse    as   I 


bridge 

should  be  to  account  for  the  colour  of    my 

hair.  It  has  been  a  more  or  less  uncon 
scious  growth,  and  the  essential  quality  of 
it,  if  it  has  any,  is,  I  suppose,  something 
inherent  and  inevitable.  Yet  a  man  may 
train  his  style  as  he  may  comb  and  arrange 
his  hair  and  beard,  and  I  have  spent  a  good 
part  of  my  life  in  trimming  mine.  I  have 
never  found  treatises  on  style  of  very  much 
use,  although  from  my  boyhood  I  was  in 
terested  in  books  of  that  sort.  The  most 
they  can  do  is  to  set  up  danger  signals  in 
places  where  young  writers  are  prone  to 
go  wrong.  For  any  positive  help  one  must 
go  to  the  works  of  authors  who  have  really 
something  to  say,  and  can  say  it  with  free 
dom  and  force.  How  vast  is  the  debt  I 
owe  to  such  inspiring  examples  I  cannot 
express  ;  I  do  not  even  know.  But,  after 
all,  the  key  to  a  good,  individual  style  I  con 
ceive  to  be  this  :  A  clear  conception  of 
what  one  wishes  to  portray,  coupled  with 
a  conscientious  and  persistent  endeavour  to 
give  it  in  words  just  the  right  colour.  Con- 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    339 

stant  practice,  with  this  principle    in  view,  f.  T. 

is  what     enables    a  writer  to   form    a    style   lr<™}' 

.         bridge. 
corresponding  with  the  qualities  of  his  mind, 

the  only  true  and  natural  style  for  him.  He 
must  learn  to  prune  away  unflinchingly 
all  that  obstructive  and  superfluous  verbiage 
which  veils  his  thought  to  his  own  mind 
or  the  reader's,  and  never  rest  contented  to  let 
a  sentence  or  a  line  leave  his  pen  that  does 
not  convey  just  the  image,  just  the  shade 
even,  which  he  inwardly  sees  and  feels.  He 
will  not  always  be  able  to  satisfy  himself  in 
this,  but  the  aim  to  do  so  is  what  makes 
style." 

GEORGE  PARSONS  LATHROP,  the  author  of  G.  P. 
"  An  Echo  of  Passion,"  an  eminent  novelist  Lathr°P* 
and  true  poet,  says  :  "  It  is  not  easy  for  me  to 
tell  you  with  exactness,  and  in  short  space, 
just  what  the  influences  have  been  which  have 
formed  me  as  a  writer.  On  a  general  view 
they  appear  to  have  been  simple  enough,  and 
yet  I  am  aware  there  has  been  a  good  deal  of 
complexity  about  them.  I  think  I  owe 
much,  more  than  can  be  calculated,  to  the 
earnest,  eager,  conscientious,  and  unremitting 


340         TRUTHFULNESS  TO   ONE'S    SELF. 

G.  P.  efforts  of  my  mother  to  make  me  write  every- 
Latkrop.  thing,  as  a  boy,  even  to  the  simplest  letter  or 
note  in  ordinary  correspondence,  just  as  well 
as  it  was  possible  for  me  to  do  it  within  my 
powers  and  with  the  aid  of  her  criticism.  She 
would  often  make  me  rewrite  a  single  letter, 
whether  it  were  long  or  short,  a  dozen  times, 
until  its  form  and  expression  had  been  made 
simple,  clear,  graceful,  serviceable,  and  spe 
cially  fitted  to  the  particular  purpose  for  which 
the  missive  was  intended.  This  established  a 
habit  of  mind  which,  I  am  sure,  has  been  the 
root  of  all  my  endeavours  to  develop  a  natural, 
pure,  and  harmonious  style.  My  mother 
taught  me  more  in  this  way  than  all  the 
teachers,  lecturers,  and  manuals  that  I  ever 
encountered, 

"  For  years,  while  I  was  a  boy  and  when 
I  was  growing  into  manhood,  it  became  my 
custom  to  observe  carefully  everything  that 
struck  me  particularly,  to  try  to  analyse  the 
characteristics  which  caused  it  to  impress  me, 
and  then  to  define  those  characteristics  in 
words  within  my  own  mind.  As  I  walked  the 
streets,  or  when  I  travelled,  or  met  peculiar 
and  interesting  objects  or  persons  anywhere,  I 


TRUTHFULNESS   TO   ONE'S    SELF.          341 

on  trying  to  translate  everything  I  saw  G.  P. 
into  words,  without  following  any  conventional  Lathrop* 
model,  but,  on  the  contrary,  seeking  only  to 
find  the  form  of  words  and  word-sounds  that 
would  reproduce  instantly  and  vividly  the  im 
pression  which  I  had  just  received.  Often  I 
would  brood  over  these  forms  of  words  for 
hours,  discarding  one  member  of  the  phrase, 
inserting  another,  repeating  the  various  forms 
half  aloud,  so  as  to  see  whether  the  music  and 
the  arrangement  of  the  syllables  reproduced 
sympathetically  the  feeling  inspired  by  the 
original  object.  I  think  I  gained  more  skill 
in  the  subtle  art  of  using  language  pic 
turesquely  and  penetratingly  by  these  years 
of  silent,  incessant  self-discipline,  than  in  any 
other  way. 

"  Certain  books  and  authors  had  a  stimulat 
ing  and  formative  influence.  Virgil  did  a  great 
deal  for  me ;  Homer,  oddly  enough,  not  so 
much,  although  the  Greek  language  inspired 
and  helped  me  much  more  than  Latin  did. 
I  count  the  study  of  German  especially,  and 
of  Greek  and  Latin  through  German,  at  a 
1  gymnasium  '  in  Saxony,  as  having  done  an 
immense  amount  for  me  in  cultivating  a  fine 


342 

G.  P.  discrimination  as  to  the  delicate  shadings 
Lathrop.  of  wor(js  an(j  significance  of  verbal  sounds. 
Hawthorne,  Dickens,  Thackeray,  were  my 
chief  masters  in  prose,  although  later  I  re 
ceived  a  strong  impulse  from  Milton's  prose 
From  De  Quincey  I  learned  a  great  deal 
that  was  very  valuable  to  me  in  the  manage 
ment  of,  or  at  least  an  appreciation  for,  subtle 
cadences  and  sonorous  harmonies.  In  poetry, 
after  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  Keats,  Tenny 
son,  and  Kalph  Waldo  Emerson  have  exerted 
the  greatest  sway  over  me  I  think,  although 
Robert  Biowning  has  also  entered  largely  into 
my  intellectual  life. 

"  I  feel  that  I  have  now  only  begun  to  touch 
in  lightly  some  of  the  points  in  this  outline  of 
my  literary  growth.  But  I  can  hardly  be 
more  elaborate  in  a  letter.  I  may  say,  how 
ever,  that  the  building  up  of  a  good  style, 
which  demands,  first  of  all,  the  study  of 
language,  must  find  its  chief  support,  next  after 
that,  in  an  absolutely  earnest  and  unaffected 
determination  to  remain  perfectly  true  to  one's 
own  thought,  to  express  it  simply,  piercingly, 
yet  delicately,  with  due  knowledge  of  verbal 
melody  and  harmony,  and  to  reproduce, 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    343 

with     single-minded     fidelity,     all      the     im-  G.  P. 
pressions     we    may     receive     from     the     life  Lathrop. 
around  us  in  words  so  true  and  direct  that, 
like    the    rays   which   fall   upon   a   sensitised 
photographic;  plate,   they  will  record  the  im 
pression  and  leave  it  to  be  reproduced  on  the 
reader's  mind  with  a  verisimilitude  that  defies 
doubt. 

"  Lest  I  be  misunderstood,  let  me  add  here 
my  belief  that  a  writer,  if  he  studies  his  own 
language  deeply  enough,  whether  in  the 
formal,  scholastic  way,  or  in  the  way  of  inten 
tion  and  keen  observation,  which  was  presum 
ably  Shakespeare's  method,  can  attain  to  the 
highest  merits  of  style,  with  little  or  no  aid 
from  foreign  and  classical  tongues.  The  study 
of  dead  languages,  and  of  living  languages 
other  than  our  own,  is  just  as  likely  to  hurt 
the  study  of  English  style  as  to  help  it.  All 
depends  on  the  spirit  arid  manner  in  which 
you  use  your  acquirements  from  these  sources. 
It  is  chiefly  for  comparative  study  they  are 
useful ;  as  a  means  of  enlarging  and  illumin 
ating  one's  conception  of  the  structure  and 
spirit  of  language  in  general  and  English  in 
particular,  and  of  sharpening  the  mind  and 

23 


344          TEUTHFULNESS   TO   ONE  S   SELF. 

G.  P.        ear  so  that  they  may  sensitively  discriminate 
Lathrop.    sha(}es  of  meaning   and   delicacies   of    verbal 
sound. 

"  Another  point.     I  have  found  the  actual 
study  of  music,  and  of  a  long  observation  of 
the    aims   and  methods   of  painting,  without 
actually   trying   to    practise    the     latter    art, 
advantageous  as  aiding  to   define  the  limita 
tions  of  language,  so  that  I  might  avoid  trying 
to   obtain  exactly,  with  words,  those   effects 
that  may  be  rendered  more  fitly  in  tones  or 
tints ;  and  at  the  same  time  leading  me  to  feel 
find    utilise    the   close    relation    between   the 
three   arts — literary,    musical,    and    pictorial. 
The  quality  of  style  in  literature  is  akin  to 
touch  in  music,  say  on  the  piano  or  violin,  or 
a  composer's  method  of  handling  and  combin 
ing  the   various  tones    in    an   orchestra,   and 
to  colouring  in  the  work  of  a  painter.     I  can 
not  agree  with  Herbert  Spencer  that  it  should 
vary  in  one  individual,  accordant  with  varying 
mood  and  theme,  to  the  extent  of  taking   on 
at  different  points  the   traits  of  other  writers' 
styles.     Let  your  style  be  as  flexible  as   you 
can  make  it,  bold,  free,  yet  nicely  adaptable  to 
the  most  diverse  moods  and  subjects ;  yet,  if 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO   ONE*S   SELF.          345 

it  be  a  good  and  honest  style,  it  never  can  be   G.  P. 
chaineleonised  into  imitation  of  other  authors. 
Never  allow  the  integrity  of  your  own  way  of 
seeing  things  and  saying  things  to  be  swamped 
by  the   influence  of  a  master,  however  great. 
And  while  you  resolutely  avoid  straining  after 
an  appearance  of  originality,  do  not  easily  be 
persuaded  to   give  up   an   epithet   or   phrase 
which  may  seem  to   another  mind  forced,  if 
you  are  once  convinced,  in  all  proper  humility, 
that  it  is  the  only  medium  by  which  you  can 
convey  your  own  meaning  as  it  presents  itself 
to  you.      It    seems   to   me   that  your   mode 
of  using   written   speech    and    my  mode    of 
using  it  ought  to  emanate  from  and  indicate 
our  several  individualities  as    clearly  as    our 
voices  do.     You  may  train  and  develop  your 
voice,  may  improve  its  modulations,  learn  to 
pronounce   well    and    enunciate    plainly   and 
finely,  and  you  may  increase  the  range  of  your 
tones  so  that  they  will  play  with  freedom  and 
power  through  the  gamut  of  emotional  utter 
ance,  of  emphatic  and  convincing  declaration, 
of  tender,  soothing,  or  pathetic   accent,  and 
at    another    time    will    sing    forth     in     im 
passioned  appeal.     But   all  the  elocution   in 


346          TRUTHFULNESS   TO   ONES   SELF. 

G.  P.       the    world    cannot    change  your    voice    into 
Lathrop.   another»s>     The  same  principle   underlies  lit 
erary  style.     An  author's   style  must  be  dis 
tinctly    his    own:    sterling,    individual,    and 
inconvertible." 

Blanche  BLANCHE  WILLIS  HOWARD,  an  American 
Howard,  novelist,  whose  stories  are  full  of  pathetic 
beauty  and  human  interest  and  written  with 
charming  freshness  of  style,  says  she  cannot 
relate  any  personal  experiences,  nor  can  she 
give  any  statement  of  method,  because  she  has 
none,  but  can  only  contribute  a  few  desultory 
hints.  "  What  an  author  writes,"  she  urges, 
"  is,  after  all,  the  sum  total  of  his  life,  his 
knowledge,  his  experience,  his  temperament, 
his  soul ;  and  '  style  '  is  the  attire  in  which  he 
clothes  his  thoughts.  The  only  advice,  then, 
which  I  should  give,  which  I  would  presume 
to  give  young  writers,  is  :  '  Look  in  thine  own 
heart  and  write.'  In  other  words,  be  true.  My 
theory  may  be  false,  but  I  believe  that  every 
author's  soul  may  be  found  in  his  works,  some 
times  masked,  it  is  true,  sometimes  well-con 
cealed  ;  but  always  there,  and  always  most  per 
ceptible  to  the  spirits  akin  to  his  own.  What 


TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE*S  SELF.    347 

comes  from  the  heart,  and  only  that,  touches  Blanche 
the  heart.  There  is  room  for  many  kinds  of 
wiiters  in  this  great  world ;  there  is  room 
for  the  romancists  and  the  realists,  as 
there  is  room  for  the  Sistine  Madonna  and 
a  Meissonier  battle-piece,  for  a  Defregger 
peasant-interior  and  a  visionary,  saintly,  tender 
Fra  Angelico. 

"  Each  artist,  writer,  or  painter  tells  his 
story.  He  cannot  pass  beyond  his  limitations, 
he  cannot  write  more  than  he  is,  or  knows — 
but  his  aspiration,  his  endless  longing  for 
something  better  than  he  is  or  knows,  reveals 
itself  in  his  work  ;  and  therefore,  while 
methods,  fashions,  and  tastes  change,  truth  is 
the  note  that  lives  and  sounds  on  through  the 
ages.  In  adventure,  in  fanciful  and  wild  ro 
mance,  there  can  be  this  note  of  truth,  which 
may  fail  in  commonplace  description.  For  in 
stance,  in  the  work  of  an  undoubtedly  gifted 
young  author  I  observed  recently  these  expres 
sions  :  '  his  lush  smiles/  and  somebody's  '  claret 
eyes.'  Now,  in  the  light  of  pure  reason,  whafc 
is  a  *  lush  smile,'  and  what  are  *  claret  eyes  '  ? 
This  is  not  poetry.  It  is  not  genius.  It  is 
balderdash,  and  it  makes  one  ill.  Contrast 


348          TKUTHFULNESS   TO   ONE'S   SELF. 

Blanche     these  untruths  with  Tennyson's  lines  on  the 
Howard,  eagle: 

He  clasps  the  crag  with  crooked  hands  j 
Close  to  the  sun  in  lonely  lands, 
Ring'd  with  the  azure  world,  he  stands. 

The  wrinkled  sea  beneath  him  crawls  ; 
He  watches  from  his  mountain  walls, 
And  like  a  thunderbolt  he  falls. 

Here  the  poet  uses  his  license,  hut  his  figure 
is  strong,  simple,  and  true.  Whereas,  in  the 
prose  which  I  quote,  'lush'  and  'claret'  are 
untrue.  The  extreme  of  realism  is  ugliness, 
crime,  and  the  sights,  sounds,  and  odours 
of  hospitals.  The  extreme  of  idealism  is 
'  lush  '  and  '  claret,'  as  quoted.  Surely  truth 
may  be  found  between  the  two.  Surely  a 
rose  is  as  true  as  an  onion ;  surely  a  youth 
sauntering  down  the  Boulevard  des  Italieus  is 
no  truer  than  when  he  gives  up  his  life  for  his 
friend,  or  when  he  leads  a  forlorn  hope  in 
deadly  battle  for  his  fatherland  ! 

"  We  all  preach  better  than  we  practise. 
I  know  no  reason  why  I  should  lay  down 
the  law  before  any  writer,  old  or  young.  I 
perceive  too  clearly  what  I  would  do,  and 
what  I  cannot  reach,  to  attempt  to  instruct 
any  human  soul.  Yet  without  arrogance  J 


TRUTHFULNESS   TO   ONE'S   SELF.          349 

would  say  to  any  and  every  young  writer,  as  I  Blanche 
say  every  day  and  every  hour  to  myself:  Be  Howard. 
honest,  be   fearless.     In  every    heart  lie  the 
possibilities     of     love      and      suffering     and 
tragedy.     Seek   the  truth   that  is  near  you — 
do  not  imagine  it  in  India,  or  in  the  planet 
Mars.     Write  the  truth  as  you  see  it,  with 
out  fear  or  petty  prejudice.     If  it  be  truth  it 
will    finally    prevail.     Picture    the  ugly,    and 
the   hospital  atmosphere,  and  animal    life    if 
you  will,  but  not  always,  since — thank  God ! 
— though     these  be   true,   faith,   and    friend 
ship,  and   peace,    and  loyalty,   and  love,  and 
rapture     are  no  less  true     in    this    changing 
world  of  ours  (whatever  comes,  God's  world!), 
and  whoever   paints  only  the   painful,   cruel, 
and  loathsome  is  no   less   morbid   and    false 
than  he  who  paints  only  the  '  lush  '  and   the 
'  claret.'       The    true,    the     wholesome,     the 
human,    with    all    its    pain   and    temptation 
and    error,    yet    always   with    its   hope    and 
heart   and    loving- kindness,    is     around     us, 
near  us  on  every  side.     Let  the  young  writer 
paint  this  as  he  sees  it.     Let  him  be  fearless 
and  true.     Let  him  read  in  season  and   out 
of  season  ;  let  him  observe,  and  feel,  and  live, 


350     TRUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

Blanche     and  write.     Let  him  avoid  '  scarlet  lips,'  since 
Howard,    •>  • 

lips   are  never  scarlet,  as  an  eminent  French 

painter  once  informed  me.  Let  him  ask  him 
self  sternly  :  Is  this  true  ?  Could  Adolph  bear 
the  tolerably  plump  and  well-grown  Araminta 
hours  and  hours  in  his  arms  through  the 
primaeval,  trackless  forest?  To  prove  it,  let 
Tom  try  to  carry  Mary  a  half-hour  !  And  so 
in  other  and  more  important  examples. 

"  I  end  as  I  began  :  Be  honest.  Write  the 
simple  truth,  and  style  will  take  care  of  itself. 
My  own  attainments  seem  so  slight  to  me,  I 
hesitate  to  refer  to  them.  Except  that  I  have 
read  largely,  omnivorously,  and  lived  fear 
lessly,  even  when  to  my  own  worldly  dis 
advantage,  I  can  think  of  nothing  to  say  of 
my  own  life.  It  would  interest  me  to  know 
what  others,  and  those  better  able  to  give 
suggestions  and  instruction,  have  replied  to 
your  appeal." 

*  *  *  * 

At  last  I  bring  this  series  of  interesting  and 
useful  experiences  and  counsels  to  a  close.  It 
has  proved  a  long,  though  far  from  unpleasant 
labour,  to  gather  these  fragments  and  work 
them  into  their  present  association.  I  would 


TEUTHFULNESS  TO  ONE'S  SELF.    351 

fain  hope  that  what  has  thus  been  placed 
before  the  reader  will  not  be  without 
special  interest  and  value,  but  will  at  least 
have  some  small  influence  in  quickening  him 
to  higher  and  better  endeavours  in  his  own 
special  field  of  duty  and  service.  For,  how 
ever  varied  these  testimonies  are,  their  teach 
ing  is  the  same.  In  one  form  or  another  all 
express  the  fact,  which  indeed  some  have,  in 
so  many  words,  stated,  that  truthfulness  to  self 
is,  in  any  and  every  sphere  of  life,  the  only 
secret  of  power.  And  that  is  a  lesson  we  all 
need,  and  all  may  profit  by.  To  take  what 
ever  work  God  has  given  us  to  do,  and  with 
our  whole  heart  strive  to  do  it  honestly, 
heartily,  truthfully,  careless  whether  men 
praise  or  condemn,  careless  whether  the  out 
come  be  reward  of  fame  or  censure,  only 
anxious  that  it  shall  be  well  and  nobly  done,  is 
the  one  sure  path  to  the  highest,  purest,  best 
and  worthiest  art.  For  what  is  art  but  the 
doing  of  anything  as  well  as  it  can  be  done  ? 
To  be  artistic  is  to  be  faithful,  to  be  true  to 
our  highest  ideal,  conscientiously  to  finish 
everything  and  to  leave  nothing  in  a  slovenly 
condition,  to  do  with  our  might  whatevei 


352          TRUTHFULNESS   TO   ONE'S   SELF. 

our  hands  find  to  do.  The  humblest  worker 
becomes  an  artist  when  moved  by  such  a 
purpose ;  the  simplest  work  becomes  a  work 
of  art  when  thus  accomplished. 


INDEX  OF  CONTBIBUTING  AUTHORS. 


Abbott,  Edwin  A.,  309 
Alexander,  Mrs.  A.  H.,  223 
Allen,  Grant,  141 
Allinuhara,  William,  291 
Argyll,  Duke  of,  202 
Armstrong,  G.  F.,  282 
Arnold,  Sir  Edwin,  126 
Austin,  Alfred,  61 

Bain,  Alexander,  110 
Ballantyne,  R.  M.,  21 
Barr,  Mrs.  Amelia  E  ,  62 
Bayne,  Peter,  176 
Bede,  Cuthbert,  46 
Birrell,  Augustine,  296 
Black,  William,  101 
Blackie,  J.  S.,  215 
Blackmore,  R.  D.,  98 
Blind,  Karl,  254 
Boyd,  A.  K.  H.,  201 
Boyesen,  H.  H.,  37 
Bright,  John,  1<\3 
Brooke,  Stopford  A.,  313 
Brooks,  Phillips.  196 
Broughton,  Bhoda,  68 
Browning.  Robert,  58 
Bryce,  James,  175 
Buchanan,  Robert,  160 
Burroughs,  John,  232 
Burton,  Lady,  256 
Burton,  Sir  R.  F.,  256 

Cable,  G.  W.,  335 
Caine,  Hall,  4 
Cameron.  Mrs.  L.,  159 
Carey,  Miss  Rose  N.,  157 


Carleton,  Will,  330 
Carr,  Coinyns,  298 
Charles,  Mrs.  E.  R.,  323 
Collins,  Wilkie,  89 
Collyer,  Robert,  197 
Cooke.  Mrs.  Rose  Terry,  279 
Corelli,  Marie,  6 
Craik,  Mrs.,  3 
Crawford,  F.  M.,  133 
Crawfurd,  O..272 
Curtis,  G.  W.,  179 

Dilke,  Lady,  328 
Dowden,  Edward,  40,  113 

Edersheirn,  Alfred,  261 
Edwards,  Amelia  B.,  203 
Eggleston,  Edward,  277 

Fawcett,  Edgar,  211 
Fenn,  G.  Manville,  162 
Fitzgerald,  Percy,  99 
Francillon,  R  E.,  100 
Freeman,  Edward,  A.,  250 
Froude,  J.  A.,  306 

Galton,F.,104 
Gardiner.  S.,  230 
Gilbert,  W.  S.,  213 
Gissing,  G.,  8] 
Goodwin,  Harvey,  203 
Gosse,  Edmund,  297 
Gould,  S.  Baring,  147 
Grey,  Maxwell,  321 

Haeckel,  Ernst,  26 


354      INDEX   O*    CONTRIBUTING  AUTHORS. 


Haggard,  H.  Eider,  319 
Hale,  E    E.,  182 
Hamertou,  P.  G.,  294 
Hardy,  Thomas,  320 
Hare,  A.  J.  C.,42 
Barte,  Bret,   67 
llatton  Joseph,  163 
Hawthorne  J  ulian,  34 
Heath,  F.  G.,  300 
Heiity,  G.  A.,  19 
Higginson,  T.  W.,  32 
Hoey,  Mrs.  F.  Cashel,  207 
Holmes,  Oliver  W.,  207 
Howard.  Blan  -he  W.,  316 
Howe,  E.  V\ .,  75 
Howells,  W.  D.,334 
Hughes,  Tom,  214 
Huugerford,  Mrs.  M.,  17 
Huxley,  T.  H.,  11 

Ingelow,  Jean,  14 

James,  Henry,  207 
Jewett,  Sarah  O.,  177 
Jowett,  Benjamin,  201 

Kcnnard,  Mrs.  M.  E.,  325 
Kinglake,A.  W..  141 
Knox,  T.  W.,  209 
Kuenen,  A.,  202 

Lang,  Andrew,  141 
Lathrop,  Geo.  P.,  339 
Laveleye,  Emile  de,  260 
Layard,  Sir  A.  H  ,  108 
Lecky.  W.  E.  H.,  229 
Lee,  Vernon,  80 
Liddon,  E.  P.,  194 
Linskill,  Mary,  9/ 
Linton,  Mrs.  E.  Lynn,  155 
Lowell,  J.  R.,  29 
Lubbock,  Sir  J.,  231 
Lyall,  Edna,  102 


McCarthy,  Justin,  140 
Macdonald,  George,  51 
Mack  ay,  Charles,  248 
Macmillan,  Hugh,  315 
Manning,  Cardinal,  312 
Marston,  Westland,  142 
Massey,  Gerald,  225 
Matthews,  Brander,  279 
Meade,  Mrs.  L.  T.,  2(56 
Meredith,  George,  129 
Merivale,  Herman,  143 
Minto,  William,  236 
Mivart,  St.  George,  231 
Molesworth,  Mrs.  L.,  93 
Moore,  George,  73 
Morris  Lewis,  246 
Morris,  William,  59 
Moulton,  Mrs.  Chandler,  16 
Munger,  T.  T.,  317 
Murray,  Christie,  216 
Myers,  E.,  227 
Myers   F.  W.  H.,  Ill 

Newman.  F.  W.,  307 

Oliphant,  Mrs.,  78 
O'Keilly,  hoyJe,  331 

Parker,  Dr.  Joseph,  289 
Parkman,  F.,  181 
Parr,  Mrs.,  96 
Pater,  Walter,  292 
Patmore,  Coventry,  226 
Paj'ne,  John,  68 
Peabody,  A.  P. ,  199 
Peard,  Miss  F.  M.,  159 
Pfeiffer,  Mrs.  E.,  302 
Phelps,  Elizabeth  Stuart,  66 
Poynter,  Miss  E.  F.,  221 

Rawlinson,  George,  205 
Kenan,  Ernest,  123 
Riddell,  Mrs.,  158 


INDEX  OF   CONTRIBUTING  AUTHORS.       355 


Rita,  1C 

Ritchie,  Mrs.  Richmond,  91 
Robinson,  Miss  F.  M.,  326 
Robinson,  F.  W.,  321 
Roe,  E.  P.,  210 
Rossetti,  Christina,  150 
Russell,  W.  Clark  270 

Schaff,  Philip,  197 
Shorthouse  J.  H..  146 
Smiles,  Samuel,  44 
Smith  Goldwin,  227 
Spurgeon,  C.  H.,  312 
Stedman,  E.  C.,  30 
Stephen,  Sir  J.  F.,  254 
Stephen,  Leslie,  228 
Stockton,  Frank  R.,  336 
Stoddard,  R.  H.,  180 
Syiuonds,  J.  A.,  170 


Taine,  H.,  125 
Thaxter,  Mrs.  Celia  111 
Trevelyan,  Sir  G.  O.,  117 
Trowbridge.  J.  T.,  337 
Twain,  Mark,  85 
Tyndall.  John,  27 
Tytler,  Sarah,  264 

Vanibery,  Arminius,  305 
Vere,  Aubrey  de,  167 

Wallace,  Lew.  65 
Warner,  C.  Dudley,  234 
Westcott,  B.  F.,314 
Williams,  Sir  Monier  M. ,  18 1 
Winter,  John  Strange,  23 
Wood,  J.  GK,  106 

Yates,  Edmund,  272 
Youge,  Charlotte,  79 


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